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If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Deirdre - -Author: James Stephens - -Release Date: July 29, 2021 [eBook #65950] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: MWS, SF2001, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian - Libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEIRDRE *** - - - - -AN TÁIN BÓ CÚALGNE - -DEIRDRE - - - - -[Illustration: Publisher's Logo] - - MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited - LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA · MADRAS - MELBOURNE - - THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO - DALLAS · SAN FRANCISCO - - THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. - TORONTO - - - - - DEIRDRE - - BY - JAMES STEPHENS - - - MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED - ST. MARTIN’S STREET, LONDON - 1923 - - - - - COPYRIGHT - - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN - - - - - Do chum glóire Dé agus onóra na h-Eireann. - - - - -Table of Contents - - - Book I - Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV - Chapter V - Chapter VI - Chapter VII - Chapter VIII - Chapter IX - Chapter X - Chapter XI - Chapter XII - Chapter XIII - Chapter XIV - Chapter XV - Chapter XVI - Chapter XVII - Chapter XVIII - Chapter XIX - Chapter XX - Chapter XXI - Chapter XXII - Chapter XXIII - - Book II - Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV - Chapter V - Chapter VI - Chapter VII - Chapter VIII - Chapter IX - Chapter X - Chapter XI - Chapter XII - Chapter XIII - Chapter XIV - Chapter XV - Chapter XVI - Chapter XVII - Chapter XVIII - - By the Same Author - - - - -BOOK I - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Once on a time Conachúr mac Nessa[1] was on a journey, and had to pass -the night at the house of Felimid mac Dall, his storyteller. He was -annoyed because his wife, Maeve, had not come with him, but Maeve had -the knack of annoying him more than any one else was able to; so that -when he thought of her his mind went intriguing and adventuring, for he -was always trying to get the better of her, and was seldom without the -feeling that she was getting or had just got the best of him. - -For this reason he was irritable and could not look at any one with -benevolence except Fergus mac Roy. But he could not look otherwise than -benevolently on Fergus. - -Meantime, night was at hand, and one must sleep, and it is vexatious -to sleep alone. - -He clapped his hands, and said to the attendant who appeared: - -“Is Felimid mac Dall married?” - -“He is, master.” - -“Give my compliments to Felimid,” said Conachúr, “and tell him that his -wife is to sleep with me to-night.” - -The attendant vanished and the king was left alone. That is, he was -left to his thoughts, for when he was among those he was where other -men might not care to follow him. In fact, the large room wherein -he sat was almost uncomfortably filled with men: but they kept -respectfully apart, playing chess, and speaking in low voices to one -another. - -The attendant returned. - -“A Rí Uasal!” said he humbly. - -“Well?” said Conachúr. - -“The master of the house regrets that his wife cannot sleep with you -to-night.” - -“Here is something new,” said the king sternly. - -“His wife is at this moment in childbed,” murmured the discreet -servant. - -“These women are always troublesome,” said the king with jovial -anger. “She troubles me by withdrawing herself from my comfort, and -she troubles my poor Felimid by giving him a child he could well do -without.” - -He looked moodily on his gentlemen. There was Cathfa,[2] the famous -poet, and Conall his grandson, to be known later as Cearnach (the -victorious), but already notable; bitter-tongued Bricriu, who was -famous or infamous according to one’s judgement; Uisneac, who had -married one of Cathfa’s three daughters, and for whose little son -Naoise the queens of Ireland would weep so long as Ireland had a -memory; and there was Fergus mac Roy. - -Conachúr’s eye travelled loweringly from one to the other of these men -until it rested on Fergus, and on him it rested lovingly, benevolently. - -He looked loweringly on the others because they did not stand in any -particular relation to him at the moment. He looked lovingly and mildly -on Fergus because he hated Fergus and had wronged him so bitterly that -he must wrong him yet more in justification. His wife and Fergus mac -Roy were often in his thoughts, so he looked very lovingly on them and -speculated a great deal about their future. - -But this night the young king was seriously out of humour, not only -because of his wife’s absence, but because of many things that had -happened. Three comets in succession had flashed across the sky as they -drove to the Story-teller’s house. His leading chariot-horse had trod -in a rabbit-hole and its leg was cracked at the fetlock; and one of his -attendants had been taken with mortal vomitings, and it did not seem -that he would finish until he had emptied his body of his soul. - -Conachúr called to his father: - -“You are a poet, and should be able to tell us the meaning of these -various omens.” - -“It is not hard to tell,” said the calm magician. - -“Then tell it,” quoth the king testily. - -As he spoke a thin wail came from somewhere in the building, and the -men present turned an ear to that little sound, and then a questioning -or humorous eye on each other. - -“You hear,” said the poet. “A child has just been born in this house. -She will bring evil to Ireland, and she will work destruction in Ulster -as a ferret works destruction in a rabbit’s burrow.” - -Cathfa then returned to his chess, leaving the company staring. - -“You have the gift of comfortable prophecy,” said the king. - -“Put an end to the prophecy by putting an end to the child,” Bricriu -advised, “and then let us see how the gods manage their affairs.” - -“Bricriu, my soul,” said the king, “you like troubling the waters, but -to-night you seem to be afflicted with sense. Bring the creature to me.” - -They carried the little morsel to him and she was laid across his knees. - -“So you are to destroy my kingdom and bring evil to mighty Ireland?” - -The babe reached with a tiny claw and gripped one finger of the king. - -“See,” he laughed, “she places herself under my protection,” and he -moved his finger to and fro, but the child held fast to it. - -“Ulster is under your protection,” growled Bricriu. - -The king, who did not like other men’s advice, looked at him. - -“It is not soldierly, nor the act of a prince to evade fate,” said he -who was to be known afterwards as the wide-eyed, majestic monarch. -“Therefore, all that can happen will happen, and we shall bear all that -is to be borne.” - -Then he gave the child back to its trembling nurse. - -Cathfa looked up from the chess-board. - -“She is to be called the ‘Troubler,’” said he. - -And from that day “Deirdre” was her name. - -[1] Conachúr = pron. Kun-a-hoor; mac = pron. mock. - -[2] Cathfa = pron. Kaffa. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -When Echaid Yellow-Heel was King of Ulster, he had a daughter called -Assa. She was educated apart from her father’s residence by twelve -tutors, and none of these had ever trained a pupil who was so docile, -so teachable, or so affectionate. She loved knowledge, and so she loved -learned men and would be always in their company. - -One day she went on a visit to her father’s court, and when she -returned to her lessons she found that her twelve tutors had been -murdered, and there was nothing to tell who had killed them. - -From that moment her nature changed. She put on the dress of a -female warrior, gathered a company about her, and went marauding and -plundering in every direction. She was no longer called Assa (the -Gentle), but Nessa, or the Ungentle, was her name thenceforth. - -Cathfa, the son of Ross, was then a young, powerful, and ambitious man, -learning magic, or practising what he had learned, and it was he had -slain the tutors, but Nessa did not know this. It may be that Cathfa -had visited the tutors during her absence, and, for young magicians do -not love argument, he may have killed them after a dispute. - -Once, on one of her marauding expeditions, she went questing in a -wilderness. At a distance there was a spring of clear water, and, -while her people were preparing food, Nessa went to this spring to -bathe. She was in the water when Cathfa passed, for he also was in that -wilderness, and when he saw the girl’s body he loved her, for she was -young and lovely. He approached, and placed himself between the girl -and her dress and weapons, and he held a sword over her head. - -“Spare me,” she pleaded. - -“If you will be my wife I will spare you,” said Cathfa. - -She agreed to that, for no other course was open to her, and they -rejoined her party. - -They were married, and Nessa’s father gave them a bride-gift of land, -called afterwards Rath Cathfa, in the country of the Picts in Crí Ross. -In time a son was born to those two, namely, Conachúr mac Nessa, for it -was by his mother’s name he was known, and it was for him that Cathfa -made the poem beginning: - - Welcome to the stranger that has come here. - -There are some who say, however, that Fachtna the Mighty had been the -leman of Nessa, and that it was he was the father of Conachúr instead -of Cathfa. If so, as Fachtna was the son of Maga, who was daughter of -Anger mac an Og of the Brugh, then Conachúr had the blood of a god -in his veins as well as the blood of a mortal, and much of his great -success and of his terrible failure can be accounted for; for the gods -are unlucky in love, so, too, the son of a wise mother is unlucky in -love, as is also the man who is fortunate in war. - -After some time Nessa left her husband, taking her son with her. It may -be that she had discovered he was the murderer of her tutors. It may -have been that she did not love him; it may even be that she did not -like being wife to a magician, or he may have grown tired of her. But -she never returned to him again. - -But when Conachúr was a youth Nessa was still the most beautiful woman -of Ulster. The then King of Ulster, Fachtna the Mighty, died, and his -young half-brother, Fergus, the son of Roy, wife of Ross the Red, son -of Rury, came to the throne. Fergus was then eighteen years of age and -Conachúr was sixteen, and, like Conachúr, Fergus also was known by his -mother’s name instead of his father’s. - -Nessa came to the Ulster court with her son, and while there Fergus -fell madly in love with her, and she could in no way avoid the -importunities of that monstrous youth, for Fergus was gigantic in bulk -and stature. - -“I shall marry you on one condition,” said Nessa. - -“I agree to it beforehand,” said Fergus. - -“You know the great love I bear my son, Conachúr?” - -“I also love him,” said Fergus. - -“His descent is kingly,” she said, “and I desire that he should be a -king if it were only for a year. If you resign the crown to him during -our first year of marriage I will marry you.” - -“I will do that,” said Fergus. - -That was done, and for a year Fergus and Nessa lived happily together. - -But Nessa was not entirely absorbed in love. She was still thinking of -her son. During that year she arranged a marriage for Conachúr with -Clothru, the daughter of the High King of Ireland, and she spent a vast -treasure in working among the nobles and important people of Ulster, so -that they became of her son’s party as against the party of her husband. - -Indeed, her young husband had no party, for he was the least suspicious -man living in the world, and, except in matters of honour or war, he -would make no plans and take no trouble. Nor was Conachúr idle during -his year of kingship. His ability was marvellous, and his energy as -wonderful. Feuds that seemed to be endless were settled by him. Foreign -affairs that threatened or hung offered him no trouble. But it was from -the Judgement Seat that his fame spread most quickly. - -“A fool,” said the proverb, “can give judgement, but who will give us -justice?” No question was so tangled but that swift mind could pierce -it; no matter was too ponderous to be weighed by him, or too light to -escape his attention. He knew all, he attended to all; everything he -touched was bettered, and men said that until that year Ulster had -never known prosperity, or peace, or justice, but only the imitation of -these. Conachúr was every man’s friend, and in a short time every man -was his. - -Fergus returned to a court that had forgotten him, or that was so -blinded by the new prodigy that they saw nothing when they looked -elsewhere. It was held that Fergus had actually resigned the kingship, -or that he had given it as a dowry to his wife; and, although the young -lord may have been dismayed, the representation of the nobles, and, in -particular, the wit and cajolery of his wife, arranged that matter, so -that he made no effort to regain his kingdom, and in a short time he -was the most devoted admirer of Conachúr in the realm. - -It is possible that Nessa left him then, or that she died, but we do -not hear of her again. - -Conachúr’s married life may have been happy, but it was short. At the -end of about eight months Clothru returned to Connacht on a visit to -the High King, her father. We do not know what happened, but a dispute -arose between Clothru and her youngest sister, Maeve.[3] Maeve struck -a blow that killed Clothru, and Conachúr’s first child was born in its -mother’s death agonies. - -When this news came to Ulster Conachúr set out to demand reparation -or vengeance, but when he beheld Maeve his ideas underwent a horrible -change. He had never seen anything like this queenly creature. He had -not imagined that there could be in the world a girl so wonderful -as she, for she was brave and able and of a marvellous loveliness. -Conachúr’s hard mind would not flinch when once his lusts were aroused. -His vengeance and his desire made common cause. He married Maeve -against her wish, and without her consent, and he bore her back with -him to Ulster, a queen, a captive, and, notwithstanding her crime, a -deeply wronged woman. - -Fergus mac Roy and Maeve, these were his victims, and from them there -was to arise a story which would seem to the king as unending as time -itself. Those two, and Deirdre! - -[3] It was this Maeve, anciently spelled “Madb,” who became afterwards -“Mab” the Queen of the Fairies of Spenser and Shakespeare. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Deirdre grew up in a place apart at Emania. She saw no people of any -kind, except Lavarcham, the king’s “conversation-woman,” and her women -servants; for always about the castle where she lived there was a guard -of the oldest and ugliest swordsmen that were in Ulster. Their duty -was to let nobody pass in or out of the castle grounds; for it was the -king’s intention to outwit fate as he had outwitted all else that had -moved in his path. - -Thus she grew in gentleness and peace, hearing no voice less sweet -than the voice of the birds that sang in the sunshine, or the friendly -calling of the wind she played with; seeing nothing more uncomely than -the gracious outline of far hills, the many-coloured sky that fled and -was never gone, the creatures that lived unmolested in the trees about -the castle, and the wild deer that grew tame in nearby brakes. All that -she knew was friendly to her and naught was rough. All that she drew -nigh to stood for her approach. Naught fled from her, and she did not -flee from anything. - -Watching her, as she stood or sat or went, the wise Lavarcham used to -lose her senses, for all that was beautiful was here gathered into one -form, as in one true ray of the sun is all that is lovely of the sun. -The running wind, and the wild creatures of the wood; the folk from the -Shí, the Bochanachs and Bananocks, and the aerial beings that are not -seen, might have stayed to look at Deirdre, but had they stayed they -could not have gone again, for they would have become eyes only, and -they would have perished in beauty, gazing on it. - -Lavarcham was a wise woman. She could not have occupied and continued -to hold her position in Conachúr’s household had she not been wise. She -was known as the king’s “conversation-woman,” and she could indicate -an unpleasant truth as delicately as a poet can express the dimple -in a lady’s chin. But her real occupation, masked by the courteous -word, was that of household spy. She went to and fro in the vast -palaces at Emania, and nothing passed there, whether among the nobles -or the servants, that she was not privy to, or which the king was not -thereafter acquainted with. She could adapt herself to any situation -and to every society; and if her chatter with the kitchen-maids was -jovial and in key, her conversation with a young princess or an old -bard was not less balanced and elucidatory. - -She had many things to teach a young girl, and she withheld no -knowledge that could benefit the little one whom her heart had soon -adopted as its own babe. The virtues as well as the arts were part -of her experience, so that Deirdre grew in the love of chastity, of -industry, and of joyfulness. - -In this way and in these teachings the years went by, unnoticed as -years. Day followed night, and night came after day in a timeless -succession, each adding its unnoticeable little to her stature, its -unseen tender curve to her limbs, its imperceptible deposit of memory -to her mind. - -But among the arts of which the tireless Lavarcham spoke there was one -she taught and retaught to Deirdre, and that art was Conachúr. - -Although she had never seen the king, yet the young girl knew him as -a mother knows her baby. She could have recited his babyhood, his -adolescence, and now his maturity. She knew, as only Lavarcham did, -why he did such a certain thing, and by what progressions this stated -consummation, marvelled at by others, had been arrived at. It was of -infinite interest to Deirdre, but its inevitable effect was to stamp -the unseen king with a seal of time, so that, although Lavarcham -insisted he was only thirty-five years of age, the young girl’s mind -regarded him as one who could have been father and grandfather to a -hill. - -She reported to Conachúr at proper intervals as to her ward, and he, -if he had wished, might have checked the passing years by his memory -of the stories Lavarcham told him of Deirdre learning to walk, and -walking; of Deirdre learning to talk, and talking: her teeth were -counted to him as she cut them, and when she bruised her knee slipping -down a bank, or when she wept for the cold fledgling she found on the -path, or when she refused to weep in a thunderstorm, he was acquainted -with the facts, and nodded at them gravely as they were told. - -She had been a round thing, all surprise and fluff, like a young duck: -she became a lank anatomy, all leg and hair and stare, like a young -colt: then she became a wild thing, all spring and peep and run, like -a young fawn; and now she was what Lavarcham continued to report and -dilate on. - -But the king could not believe one half of the tale that Lavarcham -told, for it seemed to him that such beauty as she reported was not -credible, and he knew that women speak foolishly when they talk of -beauty. He was, moreover, well satisfied with the queen who was with -him then, Maeve, the lovely daughter of the High King. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -It happened at last that Maeve came to the decision which for a long -time had been forming in her mind. She decided that she would not -remain with the King of Ulster any longer, and, having so decided and -faced all its implications, she was not long in finding an opportunity -to get away from him. It is not right to say that she “found” an -opportunity, for she was of those who create chance, and who do at all -times everything that is in their minds. - -There were many reasons why she might have been discontented as the -wife of Conachúr. The similarity of their characters, their equally -imperious temperaments, their equally untiring and almost identical -habits of mind, rendered each an object of suspicion and endless -cogitation to the other. They could not rest together or apart, for -each knew what, in certain circumstances, he or she would do, and -unerringly credited the other with the performance of these surmised -deeds. Thus leisure, which might have been profitably spent by either, -was wasted by both in courteous ambuscades and counter or parallel -schemes, so that the private habit of one was a perpetual cancelling of -the private desires of the other, and a state of exasperation existed -between them which, as it could not come to the surface and be faced or -downfaced, ended by being a very poison to life. - -In settling out these terms it is more proper to refer them to Maeve -than to the king, for in the large conduct of his affairs he could -escape from his household and forget in the Council Hall or the -Judgement Seat that which his wife was given only the greater leisure -to remember in her Sunny Chamber or among her servants and sycophants. - -But matrimony had been poisoned for them at the very fountain, and a -dear, detestable memory for Maeve was that her husband had outraged -her before he married her, and that he had taken her then and -thereafter in her own despite. - -If it had been a question of morality she might have forgiven Conachúr -almost before forgiveness could be prayed for, but it was not a moral -violence she raged against. She was a lady to whom nothing in the -world was so dear and instant as she was herself, and that any man -should lay an uninvited hand upon her outraged her sense of propriety -as no general idea could have done. But she was as courageous as she -was beautiful and as unblushing as either. The world might have heard -her statement of the virtues she demanded in a husband, and if the -world was alarmed the young queen permitted it to be as it pleased, on -condition that it did not interfere with her, nor question her wish. - -“My husband,” she said, “must be free from cowardice, and free from -avarice, and free from jealousy; for I am brave in battles and combats, -and it would be a discredit to my husband if I were braver than he. I -am generous and a great giver of gifts, and it would be a disgrace to -my husband if he were less generous than I am. And,” she continued, -“it would not suit me at all if he were jealous, for I have never -denied myself the man I took a fancy to, and I never shall whatever -husband I have now or may have hereafter.” - -It is possible that her husband did not fulfil these conditions as -completely as Maeve desired. Of his courage there could be no doubt. -He had proved that on many an opponent, and although there were better -soldiers there were few who breasted danger with such gay violence. As -to his generosity, that might be questioned by one so whole-hearted as -Maeve, for although he would give often and largely there might be more -of calculation than of spontaneity in the gift. But it is in the third -of her stipulations that Conachúr would probably be found wanting; for, -given his temperament, his furious passions, his habit of command, and -his endless cleverness, he should have been a very madman for jealousy. -All clever men are jealous: it is one of the forms of egoism. - -He must have tracked the discontented lady with the persistence of a -bloodhound and all the casual anonymity of a husband. He would have -been always just there in the place where she least desired to see him; -and it is possible that gentlemen on whom her eyes rested approvingly -would disappear before her eyes had adequately rested on them. It may -have seemed to Maeve that some one like Conachúr was standing at every -corner in Emain Macha,[4] and that at the few corners where he was not -his conversation-woman was, or some other withered crone was there -blaring hideously on her yellow tusk and making a noise that would -annoy a young woman, but which might absolutely terrify a young man. - -She reviewed the situation and all the subsidiary situations. She -thought of what her father, the High King, would say, and knew how -he should be answered and by what arts he might be made an ally. She -thought of what her two sisters would urge, but she thought of them -negligently, considering that they would be more anxious to avoid than -to meet her. And she thought of her third sister, about whom she need -speculate no more; and Maeve’s hand that struck the blow had been as -steady as was her mind that contemplated its memory. Conachúr had come -to demand vengeance and had exacted marriage. That was his vengeance, -and she thought of the cold-minded, furious-blooded king in every -alternation from astonishment to rage, and in every mood except that of -fear, for she was not afraid of him, or of anything that lived. - -[4] Emain Macha = pronounced Evan Maha. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Her immediate intention was to get away from Ulster and so to order -her conduct in the meantime that the king, who suspected everything -and foresaw all, would have no suspicion of this: therefore, if she -cogitated her plans she kept them in her own mind. She would have no -confidant until the action was decided and the hour for it had struck. - -And in this matter she had much to think of. But she patiently resolved -these complexities, so that each went at last into its place in her -plan, and she had the leisure to review and revise it until she could -be certain that nothing was forgotten and that a perfect piece of -machinery had been created. The machine was not visible, but it would -appear as at a wave of her hand, and it would begin to move at the hour -of its birth. It was not by chance that this lady was called by a -masculine name,[5] for she had patience and tenacity and a clear, cool -head. - -Had it been merely a question of getting comfortably away there would -have been nothing in the prospect to exercise the queen. She would -have mounted her chariot, and, whether her husband was looking or not -looking, she would have driven wherever she wished to go: she would -have driven over him if he had stood in her way, and through his army -if that had been unavoidable. The difficulty was that she did not -intend to leave with Conachúr the possessions she had brought to Ulster -and those that she had since acquired, for the High King had endowed -his daughter in a manner befitting his condition and the rank she was -to occupy; and, as a wife’s possessions were secured to her by the law -of the land, she did not intend to leave Conachúr richer than he had a -right to be. - -It was the transport of this vast baggage which exercised the queen. - -She owned flocks of sheep, herds of cattle, droves of horses and pigs. -These naturally had multiplied during her residence at Emain. She -had vessels of gold and silver, of findriny and bronze. She had rings -and bracelets; shoulder torques as big as plates, and breast brooches -that were twice as big. She had pleasure chariots and war chariots; -she had rich fabrics of linen embroidered with gold and silver thread; -many-coloured, silken shawls with deep fringes of gold or with tassels -and bobberies of silver. She had head-dresses of every material and -metal. Bronze spears, each with an hundred loose rings of gold that -clashed musically up and down the handle, and on each of the rings -there chimed a little silver bell. She had shields and breastplates of -solid silver and gold, and they were set out with patterns of dainty -gems. There were quilts of silk and fur, cushions that delighted the -head or the eye that rested on them. She had bird-cages of ivory and -crystal. Beds that had been chipped out of monster blocks of amethyst. -Cups of carved ivory, each with a different gem set inside at the -bottom so that it twinkled at you while you drank. Chess-boards of -precious metals, and each man on the board had occupied the cunning -artificer a long year of his age to fashion it. She had her own -machinery for brewing and baking. What had she not got? Her dresses -alone would pack a house and burst out through the roof and tumble down -the glass of her Sunny Chamber like an untimely sunset for colour, and -like a billow of the sea for exuberance. - -She did not intend that as much as one thread of her threads should -remain behind her in Emain Macha. - -“No other queen shall waggle her toes in my draperies, nor enjoy what -is proper for my enjoyment alone,” thought Maeve. - -Conachúr was preparing to go on a visit to Cairbre Niafar, King of -Leinster, for he thought an alliance could be formed from which good -might possibly come to Ulster. The neighbouring kingdom of Connacht had -grown strong and stronger, and he knew that the people of that kingdom -would be glad to think that Leinster and he remained at arm’s-length. - -He would travel in state, and such a journey had to be organized -carefully. Houses for rest and entertainment on the way must be -arranged for. Heralds and messengers sent days in advance and -dispositions made so that their reports might be received on his -journey. Several thousand men would be in his company, and the shelter, -feeding, and entertainment of these had to be thought of. So for a -little time he was busy. But he was not too busy to remark anything -that might chance to be remarkable. - - * * * * * - -Lavarcham sat with him in his retired room at the centre of the -Royal Branch. From this room the great circular mass of his palace -radiated in all directions to its ten-acre circumference, and in this -deep-placed, well-secured centre the king sat, as a spider might sit in -the middle of his gigantic web. The room he occupied was sufficiently -large. The ceiling was an intricate medley and very encrustation of -carved wood, and pushing out of that chaotic centre came a great -shoulder and a grotesque head which held in its mouth a bronze chain -with a crystal ball swinging from it, and that ball was so round and -pure it seemed to be one great drop of clear water. Sometimes Cathfa -came here, and would read matters in the crystal to the king. The walls -of the room were panelled in polished red oak, and between each oaken -panel was a panel of ruddy bronze, with a silver rail above it, and a -golden bird was perched at the end of each rail; so that the light from -the torches gleamed gently again from the walls and multiplied itself -in faint winks and reflections about the room. There was one large -chair there, and a small stool. - -Lavarcham was seated on the stool. She was permitted to rest in her -master’s presence, for she usually had much to say to him and he always -found her interesting. - -“Good my soul,” said the king. “I am glad that you are a woman.” - -“I am not badly contented about that myself,” she smiled. - -“For,” he continued, “if you had been a man I should have been afraid -of you.” - -“How so, master?” - -“Because you could have taken my kingdom whenever you wanted it.” - -“Indeed, master, I would not accept a kingdom if I got one as a -present. There is too much responsibility and there is too much to do.” - -“It is no lie,” he conceded. - -“I like,” she continued, “to do my work, and then I like to forget my -work; but if I had the bad luck to be a king, or a queen, I should -never again know what a rest meant, as you, my dear master, do not know -what it is to rest yourself.” - -“Still,” said the king smilingly, “the queen does get an occasional -rest.” - -“A king wants rest but cannot get it; a queen, however, may not feel -the need to rest, and may not wish for it.” - -“How do you intend that, my friend?” - -“I mean that a woman gives herself up more than a man does, and when -she so gives herself to love or power or hate she gives all that she -has, where a man may keep back something.” - -“But the queen, Lavarcham, as you have spoken of her, what do you think -of her?” - -“How would I dare to think about the queen, master?” - -“Do you like her?” he insisted. - -“She is very lovely.” - -“I perceive that you do not love the queen,” said he; and then, after a -moment, but severely--“Do you love me, Lavarcham?” - -“I do love you indeed,” she answered gravely. - -“But,” he insisted, “do you love anybody else as well as me?” - -“I love nobody else except my babe.” - -“Ah, that fabulous babe! Is she still getting new teeth, or what is it -she is getting now?” - -“She is getting to be a beautiful young girl, master.” - -“Ah, yes, you told me that.” - -“She is thirteen years of age.” - -“But tell me now, my heart, why did you draw the talk a moment ago to -queens and their hate and restlessness?” - -“Indeed, master, I did not draw the talk round in that way.” - -“Perhaps,” he mused, “the queen has not treated you courteously.” - -“You are wrong indeed,” she said happily, “for this whole week past the -queen has been most kind to me.” - -“Ah!” - -“And to-day she called me ‘her Dear Branch, Lavarcham,’ and spoke with -me for an hour.” - -“Ah!” said Conachúr. “Have you been among her women?” - -“I have, master.” - -“And her men?” - -“They too.” - -“What have you found?” - -“Nothing, master. Not a word, not a wink, not a stare, not a -hesitation, not an eagerness, not a question; I found nothing.” - -“And in the queen what did you notice?” - -“Affection for me, master.” - -“I wish I were not going away,” said the king. He stood from his chair -and strode weightily in the room. - -“I too wish it,” his companion agreed. - -He halted and regarded her gravely. - -“Be very friendly with the queen,” he counselled. - -But Lavarcham smiled pityingly at him. - -“Why should I waste my time?” said she. - -He nodded at that also, and became deeply and unhappily thoughtful. - -[5] The word Maeve or Mab seems to mean “Intoxication.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -Maeve had her own bodyguard of soldiers, close on one thousand men, -who had come with her from Connacht, and from whom she refused to -be parted. She was herself their captain, and each man of them was -devoted to her. They were mostly her own countrymen, and she drilled -and exercised and was good to them with untiring patience and skill. -She was the mother of the force, but a wag called her the wife of the -regiment. These thousand men were in Conachúr’s mind as he arranged -his visit to Leinster. He had often thought he must disband this force -and replace it by his own men, or that he must win its allegiance and -destroy it, so he also had been especially kind to the strange soldiers. - -Now, on the eve of his journey, he thought it would be a good thing to -bring them with him to Leinster; thus, as he explained to Maeve, giving -them entertainment and exercise, while at the same time doing honour -to his queen and her native province. But the proposition raised such -a dreadful ire in the queen, she trod the chamber in such dudgeon and -was so free in her speech, that Conachúr hastily and good-humouredly -withdrew the suggestion; and bade her bear the soldiers’ discontent -when they learned who stood between them and one of the pleasantest -marches that a soldier could have. - -Indeed, an argument with Maeve was not to be lightly undertaken. It -was likely to last a long time, in the first place; and in the second, -she had so precipitate a manner of speech and so copious a command of -words that the listener’s mind quickly began to feel as if it were in -a whirlpool, his head would fly round and round, and he must run away -lest his brains burst out from his ears and he die giddily. - -No one but Conachúr could hearken to Maeve’s speech on such occasions, -and he only did it when he particularly wanted to. For, at times, that -which would drive another man mad had a strangely soothing effect on -him, and he could sit under that shrill tornado as peacefully as a -daisy sits in the sunshine. At times, as one forces a restive horse -much farther than it desires to go, he would impel into the brief -tail-end of her sentence a philosophic and peaceful interjection which -acted on her as the spur on the horse, so that he would drive her -beyond the very bounds of utterance, and she would at last, from sheer -tongue-weariness, topple from the peaks of speech into a silence so -profound that nothing, it seemed, could ever draw her thence again; and -then Conachúr would talk to her soothingly, reasonably, unforgivably, -and it was Maeve would run. - -But this time Conachúr fled: he was in no mood and had not the time for -argument; he knew she would not yield, and he was so angry and hurried -that he could not be the patient, humorous, and watchful comrade he had -intended to be. - -When he spoke of this matter to Lavarcham he did not speak with good -humour, but he did not empty his mind even to the conversation-woman. -It was not necessary. - -“When I return from Leinster ...!” said he. - -But the wise woman nodded only a half-hearted agreement, for she -thought that, although it might only take two days to bury a thousand -men, it would take a long time to bury those who would march to avenge -them. - -The rage and agitation into which his suggestion had thrown the queen -was so great that she fell ill, and could not accompany her husband to -Leinster. So that, as on a previous occasion, he had to travel without -her, the understanding being that she would take the road after him, -and, travelling more lightly, could perhaps catch on his company before -they reached Naas, the court and capital of the King of Leinster. - -With his force, but unknown to it, there went a youth--a long-striding, -active, bull-like young man with a freckled face and red hair, and -than whom there was no more jovial person in all Ireland, for if a -man was striking at him with a spear he could make that man laugh -so much that he would not be able to hit straight. His name was mac -Roth. He was Maeve’s personal servant, her herald. But just as the -word “conversation-woman” cloaked another occupation for Lavarcham, so -the word “herald” hid the same usefulness in mac Roth. He was Maeve’s -personal spy, but he also was her herald, and in after days, because of -his knowledge, address, and courage, he was to be the chief herald of -all Ireland. - -He accompanied Conachúr’s force, but he was not with it. He was a mile -in advance, or a perch behind, or he was to the right of it just at a -small distance, or he was looking from a hill on the left as the gay -cavalcade and silver-shining chariots went by in the valley. - -He accompanied them in that manner unseen for two days, and then, -murmuring a blessing on them and on their encampment, he left them in -the night, taking from them the loan of an unwatched horse, and he rode -back by short cuts to Emain. - -When he reached the palace he was able to report that the king had gone -so far he could not easily turn back; and at that news Maeve’s illness -departed from her as suddenly as it had come. - -In the morning she called for twenty of the chief men of her bodyguard -and gave them careful, separate instruction. Then she informed the -domestics that her quarters must be thoroughly cleaned while the king -was away, and that everything she owned must be put out on the sunny -lawn for airing and counting. - -The palace chamberlain came in great haste, but that suave man was -soothed by Maeve and sent away with his dignity unhurt, but his mind -exercised. He communicated his news to Lavarcham, who had retired to -the company of her “babe” outside Emania. Within the hour Lavarcham -despatched a flying messenger to Conachúr, but just outside the city -mac Roth, who was waiting for him in a hedge, buzzed a spear through -that man’s back as he went thundering past. But in the night Lavarcham, -who left little to chance, sent other messengers, so that if some -miscarried others would not. - -But Maeve’s plan was at work, the men she had chosen for a particular -part were acting in that part, and inside of ten hours her company -was deployed behind her baggage, her march to Connacht had begun, and -Conachúr was a bachelor again. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -It was as well that the king was in Leinster at the time of Maeve’s -flight. Had he been nearer home he would have been obliged to -do something, and, in such a situation, to do anything is to be -ridiculous. He knew Maeve too well to imagine that she would return for -a threat, yet he made the threats which seemed politic, for that was a -matter of course. - -But the messengers who bore these rigorous intimations to her father -bore others to Maeve, and in these the son of Ness was humble as no one -could imagine possible, and as his counsellors might not have deemed -advisable. - -There was no arrangement which she might have suggested that he would -not have agreed to, but the difference between them was too radical to -be spanned by arrangements. - -Maeve was proud; she was vain to boot, and could not consent to be -second to any one. Living with Conachúr she had to be second, whatever -he or she might desire. Indeed, living with him anywhere she would have -to take second place, for the first place came to him so naturally, -with such ease and finality, it could not be questioned or revoked, or -contrived in any way. - -More, and worse, she detested him for he had always dared her and -succeeded. She, it is true, had dared him, and on this occasion had -succeeded. But she could not live with him and dare him competently, -which is just what he could do with her. Even if he abdicated the -throne to her he would keep the sceptre, and she could no more take it -from him than she could have abstracted the speed from the lightning. -If she came back to Emania she would come back dead, or, should it -happen that she did come back alive, the king would at last have to -kill her or she would kill the king. Conachúr knew it, and at last -renounced his vain embassies and hopes. - -If we should wonder why he sent them, or why he should hope, the answer -lay in his character. That clever, energetic man could not exist with a -tame mate. A mere bodily satisfaction he, sated in such satisfactions, -would have exhausted in a week, and thereafter he would be without a -refreshment which is as much of the mind as of the body, and which, to -one of his temperament, has always most of the mind even when it seems -fleshy to beastliness. She satisfied cravings of his nature which he -himself but dimly understood; and if, with her, the mistress was more -apparent than the wife, therein lies the desire and doom of a clever -man. - -For he was diabolically clever, and, so, not wise, and, so, not great. -Only the great escape slavery, and he was the slave to his ego and -would be whipped. A great man would not, because he could not, take -mean advantages. But the manner in which Conachúr ousted Fergus from -his throne will command the admiration of his peers only, and obtain -from them the justification which success requires. And yet he could -retain the love of his victim, the trust of his people. He was so -near to greatness; there were such sterling qualities running with -the egotism; he could be so mild in difficulties, so clear-sighted in -counsel; he could be so staunch a friend; he could forgive with such -royal liberality; he could spend himself so endlessly for his realm. -Cúchulain did not think of him as a bad man, nor did Fergus; and as to -the latter, he loved and honoured Conachúr above the men of Ireland. -Was that a defect or a merit in Fergus? Was he too great or too simple? -But it was not for clever tricks he admired Conachúr, nor was it for -tricks that his people referred to him as the “wide-eyed, majestic -king.” - -However he bore the flight in public, he mourned for and craved for -Maeve in private, and the illness which comes to a baulked will fell on -him, corroding his mind and his temper, so that even Lavarcham left him -as much alone as her duties permitted. - -Again and again by an effort of the will he would arouse from that sour -brooding to throw himself into work and into the grave joviality which -had once been his note; but, as instantly, he would relapse visibly -to any eye, and might stare so sardonically and uncomprehendingly on -a suppliant that the latter would be glad to go away with his tale -unlistened to. - -Matters were thus when a new plan began to brood in Lavarcham’s mind, -so that when she looked on her babe again it began to seem that she -looked on a queen, for she intended to marry Deirdre to Conachúr. - -All Ulster wished the king to marry again, for a celibate prince is a -scandal to the people. - -It was the constant effort of those responsible in the State to marry -off a young prince almost as soon as he came to the age of puberty. -For such youngsters are great rovers, with appetites as gluttonous as -dogs, and so care-free that they are surprised and indignant if others -question the action which they do not themselves weigh. It is certainly -a hardship and a tyranny if a neighbour should constrain a neighbour’s -wife to his own domestic uses, but it is only a hardship because the -affair occurs between equals, among whom friendly observances are due, -and between whom equal respect is grounded. Among equals anything that -implies inequality is a punishable wrong: but there is no hardship -when the superior takes what he carelessly desires. It is community of -interests which makes equals, and the disturbance of this which makes -enemies; but there is no community of interests between the prince and -the subject, and no man is aggrieved by an action which can only affect -his honour by increasing it. Nevertheless, so illogical is the mind of -man, and so uncompromising is the sense of property, that men could -be found who would interrupt with a spear the careless pleasure of a -prince; and there were some, blacksmiths mostly and cobblers, who would -take a cudgel to the king’s majesty itself and beat it out of a warm -bed. - -So, when Lavarcham thought that she might conduct her ward between the -lax arms of her sovereign, she but harboured an idea which every male -person in the realm who had a wife, a sister, or a daughter, hoped for -with fervour. - -Nor did the idea occur only to her. - -Within a month of Maeve’s disappearance more young ladies began to -appear in Emania than had been noticed there previously, so that -Conachúr, had he been in a condition to observe such things, might have -noticed that Ulster had begun to blossom like the rose. - -But plottings such as these were of small use in the case of a man like -Conachúr, and it is likely that the first person to know what should -be done and what was expected from the head of the State was the king -himself. His duty as a king would point him the way: the necessity to -repair what had been damaged would claim his mind; and the desire to -forget by replacing would be even more insistent; for if a hair of the -dog that bit you is the specific against drunkenness, it is a medicine -against love also, and is, alas! the only one we know of. - -Therefore the king did for a while take a fevered interest in the -ladies of his court, but he found, so jaundiced was his eye, that they -were neither worth looking at nor worth talking to, and he did not -grudge their companionship to any man. - - * * * * * - -To Lavarcham, at last, he opened his mind. - -“I must marry, Lavarcham, my soul.” - -“There is plenty of time for that, master,” said the wily woman. - -“While I have no wife,” Conachúr replied, “the people will talk of the -wife I had, and the only way to stop that is to give them something -else to talk of.” - -“It is true, indeed,” said Lavarcham. - -“I foresee,” he continued, “that I shall be compelled to marry some one -I do not care for.” - -“In that case, master, you will be saved the trouble of choosing, for -you may take the first that comes.” - -“They seem to resemble one another like peas in a pod. Are women all -alike, my friend?” - -“They are much of a pattern, master.” - -“And yet----” said the king, brooding deeply on one that had fled. - -“Our little ward,” Lavarcham continued thoughtfully, “is rather -unusual.” - -“What age is she now?” said the dull king. - -“Sixteen years and a few months.” - -“So much. We must think of marrying her to some friend. Perhaps one of -our kinsmen of Scotland. I must be reminded again of it.” - -“Come and see her, master, and then you will be able to decide how she -should be disposed of.” - -“I shall go to see her some day.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Deirdre’s education in the art of the king continued, but it proceeded -now somewhat obliquely to its former trend. - -What woman in Lavarcham’s place could avoid treating her master’s later -affairs without something of sentimentality creeping into the terms? -And what young girl could regard Maeve otherwise than as a heroine for -having dared so shocking a scandal, and such a round of perils? As -Lavarcham detailed Maeve, Deirdre interpreted her, and at the close of -the statement the judgement of each was so different, so opposed, that -a third person might have marvelled at the tricks the understanding can -play; for what was black to the one was not only white to the other, -but it was crimson and purple and gold; and what was treachery to -Lavarcham gleamed on Deirdre like a candid sunrise. - -We assimilate knowledge less through our intellects than through our -temperaments; and a young person can by no effort look through the -eyes of an older. There are other ways by which a mutual perception -can be so deflected that the same thing is not similarly viewed, and -so Lavarcham’s appreciation of Maeve’s conduct would differ from -Conachúr’s, as his would be unlike Cathfa’s or Bricriu’s or Fergus mac -Roy’s, and as these would be obscure to one another. The element of -self-interest in each would act as a prism, and each would understand -as much of the tale as he desired to understand, but no more, and would -forgive or condemn on these arrested findings. - -To Lavarcham Maeve’s flight was treachery and deserved punishment; but -it was not, in her thought, a misfortune for which even Conachúr need -weep. She had thoroughly disliked Maeve, for though she could impose on -every one she could not impress that imperious lady, and she had never -dared tell one half of Maeve’s doings lest the violent queen should -suspect, and loose a slash that would cut her in two halves in the very -presence of the king. - -The departure of Maeve meant also the departure of mac Roth, and to be -free from that jovial, crafty eye was so great a relief that Lavarcham -could have wept in thankfulness; for to be a spy is a simple thing, -an occupation like any other, but to be spied upon when one is a spy -is a monstrous inversion of what is proper, and might easily give one -palpitations of the heart. - -Mac Roth had her frightened, and could have cowed her any time he -wished. In her own craft he was her master, for, after all, she was -only a household spy, but he was a--spy. She could glean from the -kitchen or the Sunny Chamber everything that was there; but she must -have walls about her and work behind those; while mac Roth did not mind -whether he was in a room or in a forest; he would spy in a beehive; he -would spy on the horned end of the moon; he would spy in the middle of -the sea, and would know which wave it was that drowned him, and which -was the wave that urged it on. - -Lavarcham was not only glad that Maeve was gone, she was jubilant; -and, moreover, it gave her an opportunity that she could scarcely have -hoped for to advance her babe in life without parting from her, and to -strengthen all her own grips on fortune. - -Hitherto, when she had spoken of Conachúr to Deirdre she spoke of the -king’s majesty, but now, insensibly, she began to talk of a great man -bowed under misfortune and a proper subject for female pity. But she -could not wipe out the king’s majesty with that sponge nor alter one -lineament of the portrait she had taken ten years to limn. - -The king persisted for Deirdre, stern and aloof and almost incredibly -ancient, looming out from and overshadowing her infancy like a fairy -tale; and was he not contemporary with Lavarcham, herself old enough to -be remembered but not thought of? Deirdre was interested in the king as -she was interested in the people of the Shí,[6] without expectation, -and with a little fear. - -But to her reasonings and objections Lavarcham had one answer: - -“My soul and dear treasure, you cannot speak about men, for you have -not seen any.” - -And at last one day Deirdre replied: - -“Indeed, mother, I have seen them, these men you tell me of.” - -Lavarcham stared at her. - -“And,” the gleeful child continued, “I have spoken to them.” - -Her foster-mother became smoother than silk, and soft as the lap of -kindness. - -“Tell me about that, my one love, and tell me how men seem to you now -that you have seen them.” - -“It is not hard to tell,” replied Deirdre; “men are as ugly as donkeys, -and,” she continued, “they are just as nice.” - -“As ugly and as nice as donkeys!” Lavarcham quoted in a daze. - -“Yes, mother, and I love them because they are so nice and ugly and -good.” - -“But what men are you talking of, my star?” - -“I am talking of the men outside the walls.” - -“The guards?” - -“Of course.” - -“And when did you see them?” - -Deirdre laughed. - -“Why, I have seen them ever since I was that height,” and she poised -her hand two feet above the ground. - -Lavarcham laughed at her and waggled a reproving finger. - -“You have not seen them very often, all the same.” - -“I have indeed,” the girl replied triumphantly. “I have seen them every -day of my life for the last ten years.” - -“And you spoke to them?” - -“Of course I did. I know every one of them as well as I know you.” - -“You do not, Deirdre!” - -“I do so: I know their names, and who they are married to, and how many -children they have. O, I know everything about them.” - -“Sly little fairy of the hills,” cried her perplexed guardian, “you are -poking fun at Lavarcham.” - -“I surely am not,” Deirdre replied positively. - -“Well, tell me about these men that are ugly and nice like donkeys.” - -“Very well,” cried Deirdre, “I shall prove to you that I know them. - -“You must know,” she narrated, “that each of these men is always at -the same place outside the wall, but some of them are on guard during -the daytime and others are on guard during the night. Every second -week they change this order and the ones that have been on duty in -the night take up day duty, and the day men replace them; and so they -change and change about, year in and year out, under the charge of -two captains and eight ancients. There are an hundred of these men -altogether; twenty-five of them march from point to point all around -the walls during the day, but in the night seventy-five men march to -and from smaller points. In the day also, one captain and two ancients -march around and overlook the twenty-five guards, but a captain and six -ancients march about the men who are on duty at night.” - -“Ah-ha,” cried Lavarcham, “you have been told all this by the women -servants.” - -“They only tell me tales of the men of Dana and of the Shí, and of how -their children were born, and of the proper way to cure pimples.” - -“Well, tell me more,” sighed Lavarcham, “until I see what it is that -you do know.” - -“The captain of the troop is named Daol, but the men call him Fat-face. -He has fourteen children and is unhappily married, for he has told me -many times that if he had a better wife he would be a better man. One -day when his wife was baking him a cake she baked a spell into it, so -that, although he had never felt ache or pain before, he was racked all -that day with torments; and ever since, when the moon changes and the -wind goes round, he gets pains in his bones, and he beats his wife when -he gets home on the head of it.” - -“You are certainly acquainted with this Fat-face.” - -“I love him. He wears a great leathern belt with a sword hung from it, -and, when he orders the men, he thrusts his two hands down through the -belt, stretches his legs very wide apart, and roars at them--but how -he roars! ‘Troop!’ he roars: ‘turn by the right hand: trot’; and all -the dear old men trot with their heads down very thoughtfully, until -he roars at them to stop trotting, and then they all sneeze, and talk -about their feet. - -“Sometimes he lets me drill the men.” - -“He should not,” said Lavarcham. - -“He had to,” the girl replied, “for I threw stones at him from the top -of the wall until he agreed to let me do it. But that was a long time -ago.” - -“He should have reported all this.” - -“Do you mean he should have told on me,” cried Deirdre indignantly. -“Indeed I should like to see Fat-face daring to tell anything about me. -Why, the men would beat him if he told. I would get down off the wall -and beat him myself.” - -[6] The Shí = Fairyland. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -This conversation greatly exercised Lavarcham, and she cast about -for some means whereby she might restrain her ward. It was waste of -time, as she quickly saw, for who that has been charged with a young -person aged sixteen has not been forced at last to renounce all real -guardianship? - -At that age the time has passed for prohibitions, and the time has not -yet come when advice can be listened to except in the form of flattery. -The young body is eager for experience, and will be satisfied with -nothing less actual, so the older person must grant freedom of movement -or be run to death by that untiring energy. For a while the youngster -will drink deeply, secretly, of her own will, and will then disengage -for herself that which is serious and enduring from that which is -merely pleasant and unprofitable. For all people who are not mentally -lacking are sober-minded by instinct, and when the eager limbs have had -their way the being looks inwardly, pining to exercise the mind and to -equip itself for true existence. - -At fourteen years of age Deirdre was not the untameable little savage -she had been at twelve, and at the age of sixteen she had begun to long -for some one to whom she might submit her will and from whom she could -receive the guidance and wisdom and refreshment which she divined to be -in herself, but which she could not reach. - -Her fury of activity would be broken by equal periods of languor, -wherein she would sit as in a daze, staring at the sky and not seeing -it, or looking at the grass with a vague wonder as to what this was -upon which her eyes were resting. Wild creatures or tame would trot or -amble before her, but she was only conscious of a movement without a -form. A bird might light and flirt and hop and fly, and her forsaken -mind would touch those facts without gaining information from them, -and would lose itself behind the movement vaguely, blindly, dizzily, -until the bird mixed into the sky and the sky rounded and receded and -disappeared, leaving her eyes nothing to rest on and her errant mind -without any support. - -She would look on her arms, as they hung helplessly in the grass, and -wonder that they were so unoccupied, and wonder that they were so -empty. And an oppression came to her heart, gentle enough, but without -end, as though something stirred there that could not stir, as though -something sought to weep and could not weep; so that she must weep for -it, and grieve for it, and be of a tenderness to that unknown beyond -all the tenderness that she had sensed about her. And these idle tears -would arouse, or assuage her, so that she wondered why she wept, and -she would leap from such nonsense and speed away like one distraught -with excess of life and energy. - -She would become affectionate then. She mothered the cow and its lanky -calf; the peeping rabbit and her popping brood. The shaggy mare and her -dear, shy foaleen, an arm about each neck, listened to a conversation -they loved and seemed to understand. When she tried to leave them they -trotted behind with gentle, persistent feet and eyes of such pleading -that she must run passionately back, crying that she would come again, -that she would surely come back to them on the morrow. There was not a -nest she did not know of, and the young grey mother, snuggling among -the leaves, would look gravely out at the grey eye that peeped within, -and would hearken to a cooing so delicious, so burthened with love, -that her broody hour would pass uncounted, and she would forget her -mate abroad, and the wide airs of the tree-tops. - -At night the moon could woo her so passionately she must forsake -her bed and go tiptoe among dark corridors until she came into the -presence. What wild counsel did she receive from the glowing queen! Or -was it the unmoving quietude that whispered without words; intimations -of--what? Shy touches at the heart, so that she, who feared nothing, -would look about her, startled as a young roe, who senses something on -the wind, and flies without more query. - -How lovely to her was that suspense and fear, when her every nerve -thrilled to a life more poignant than she had surmised; when something -that did not happen was perpetually occurring; when, as it were in a -moment, she might be told--what secrets! or be cautioned of something -imminent and advised! - -She lost herself in the moon, wooing it, wooed by it, until she seemed -to move in the moon, and the moon to move in her; a sole whiteness, -a sole chillness, one equal potency--For what? for that, for it, for -something, for nothing, for everything. She submitted her destiny -to the delicate sweet lady of the sky, and one night, beckoned to, -drawn at, surrounded, a small moon shining in the moon, she went on -and on, passing the grass to the turf; leaving the turf for the stony -places; from there to the wall, and over the wall also; so lightly, so -imperceptibly, so moonily, the drowsy guard did not see; or if he saw -’twas but a moonbeam that rose and fell, that fluttered and faded, that -lapsed over a piece of hollow ground and glimmered away on the slope, -merging in the silver flood and the shades of ebony, and gone while he -rubbed his eyes. - -So she marched towards destiny. - -She went among the darkness of trees, and farther, where the wood grew -thin, into a dappled dancing of jet and silver; and, beyond, to where -young voices called and called and called. - -Such fresh young voices she had never heard before, used as she was to -the dry, clipped utterance of Lavarcham, the toothless mumble of the -servants, the rusty bawling of Fat-face as of an obstinate door that -told of aches and reluctances, and the wheezing and grunting of his -stiff companions. She stayed listening to those voices, young as her -own, and as sweet; rattling like the waters that tumble and ride in the -river; chattering like a nestful of young birds in spring; soaring up -and falling down with an infinite eagerness and joy; until it seemed -that a lark’s song and the flight of a swallow had come together and -fused into one streaming of sound. - -Standing behind a vast black tree her astonished heart released itself -in tears, and she wept for her cloistered youth, and for all that she -did not know she had missed. - -Then boldly she trod forward and sat herself resolutely at the -camp-fire of the sons of Uisneac. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -They received her with the scant show of surprise which youth, so proud -of appearances, so jealous of its own dignity, extends to the unknown, -and, after the brief word of welcome, and swift surmising glance, -the conversation which she had interrupted renewed itself, perhaps -a shade more boisterously because they had been surprised, a little -more hardily because they knew one was listening who was not of their -company and might be critical. - -Soon, in their own despite, something ceremonious crept on them, -overpowering their boisterousness and making each self-conscious, -until, by the inevitable degrees, silence hovered and threatened about -the fire, and for moments nothing moved but the eye that flickered and -wandered into woodland vistas, where delicate dark trees stood rimmed -in silver, and everything on the ground crept and fled as the boughs -swayed and the moon spilled through them. - -But the silence only endured long enough for the look to become frank -and the mutual examination a judgement. Then the eldest of the three -boys seized the conversation to himself and upheld it, for he saw that -their guest was so afflicted with shyness that she could not move hand -or foot, and could not have replied if one had addressed her. - -He spoke for occupation also, because, having looked at her, he feared -or was too shy to look again; feared, too, that the others might -observe his embarrassment; and, being one to whom action was a first -habit, he did what he could do when he found that there was something -which he could not do. - -He did it well. - -Listening to him Deirdre knew what was the mid surge of the stream -she had listened to, the top singing of the song she had heard. This -was the lark sustained at the top of flight, and the others the mazy -pattern of the swallows’ wings. Listening she could collect herself; -and, in a while, daring to hear, she dared to see, and then she heard -no more; for when the eye is filled the ear is no more attended, and -all that may be of beauty is there englobed, radiant, sufficient, -excessive. - -How should I paint Naoise[7] as Deirdre saw him, or show Deirdre as -she appeared to the son of Uisneac? For than Deirdre there was no girl -so beautiful unless it might be Emer the daughter of Forgall, soon to -be wooed by Cúchulinn; and Naoise himself could not be bettered by -any among the men of his land unless it was by the “small, dark man, -comeliest of the men of Eirè,” Cúchulinn himself. - -When we endeavour to tell of these things words cannot stand the trial. -It may be done by music, or by allusion, as the poets have always -done, saying that this girl is like the moon, or like the Sky-Woman -of the Dawn, when they would indicate a beauty beyond what we know; -and that she is like a rose when they would tell of a gentle and proud -sweetness; that her wrist is crisp and delicate like the delicate foam -that mantles on a sunny tide; that the wise bee nestled in her bosom, -finding more of delight there than the hive gives; that she walks as a -cloud, or as a queen-woman of the sky, seen only in vision, so that all -other sights are but half seen thereafter and are scarcely remembered. - -In these grave ways we may approach perfection, indicating distantly -that which cannot be unveiled in speech; or we may tell of the -abasement which comes on the heart when beauty is seen; the sadness -which is sharper than every other sadness; the despair that overshadows -us when the abashed will concedes that though it would overbear -everything it cannot master this, and that here we renounce all claim; -for beauty is beyond the beast, and like all else of quality it can -only be apprehended by its equal and enjoyed where it gives itself. - -Still, they were young, and with young people impressions that come -quickly go as fast. They have so much in common; their interest in -the present is so quick; their faith in the future so fearless; their -memory of tenderness is so recent, and their experience of treachery -so small, that friendship comes easier to them than enmity does, and -trust grows where suspicion withers; so in a little time they were -again at ease, and when the food they had been preparing was eaten they -knew one another and were friends. - -Naoise was then almost nineteen years of age, his brother Ainnle, -seventeen, and Ardan more than fourteen, while Deirdre herself was -almost a full sixteen years. - -If she had listened before as it were to the chattering of a brook or -the outburst of a flight of birds, she now listened to a talk that was -like a mill-race for exuberance, and the cawing of a colony of rooks -for abundance; and yet, when she remembered it afterwards, she could -not remember much, or she recollected that they laughed more than they -spoke. For the talk consisted more of questions than anything else, -and the answer to each query was in nearly all cases an outbreak of -laughter and another question. - -Do you remember the day Cúchulinn came playing hurley into Emain? - -And the way he took the troop under his protection? - -And the night he went out a boy and came back a hound? - -Jokes, hinted at, that had been played on foster-fathers; grisly jokes -of the first combat of a comrade who had left his head where his feet -should be; questions that hinted at outrageous parties in the night, -when the boys chased a wild boar and their fathers and foster-fathers -hunted them; of punishments that had been evaded as a fox dodges a -dog, and behold, when safety had been found, there was the punishment -awaiting them. - -They were young, but they had killed; and they rocked with glee as -they told by what marvellous strategy they had got in the lucky blow, -and how the champion had gone down never to rise again, and they had -trotted home squealing and squawking with joy, with a head surveying -the world from the top of a spear, and it grinning down on them as -joyously as they chattered up at it. - -Names that Deirdre was unfamiliar with, and some that she knew from -the servants’ talk, flew from mouth to mouth. Conall the Victorious, -Bricriu the Prank-player, Laerí called the Triumphant, Fergus mac Roy, -these youngsters spoke of as familiarly as she might have told of the -birds in her garden, and criticized them with all the unsparing freedom -of youth. - -They did not consider that these great men were in any way superior to -themselves: the contrary was certainly in their minds. It was evident -that Ardan and Ainnle thought their brother Naoise could whip any other -champion rather easily: but Naoise was modest and would say nothing for -or against this theory. - -Deirdre was as convinced as the boys were that Naoise could beat any -combination of champions that might have the ill-luck to move against -him. She knew it from his complexion, from his curling hair. Oh! she -knew it from a variety of proofs, and she was inclined to be angry when -he argued with the younger boys that Cúchulinn[8] was the greatest man -alive. But on that subject the agreement was so unanimous, so hearty, -that she might doubt but could not question it. - -“What I should like,” said Ainnle, “would be to see a fight and a -combat between our Cúchulinn and Fergus mac Roy.” - -“That would be a fight indeed,” said Naoise, “but we shall never see -it. They love each other.” - -“It would be a queer thing,” said Ainnle, “if a boy were to fight with -his own foster-father.” - -“I heard that a boy once did, and killed him too,” said Ardan. - -“Who did? Who did?” - -“I forget his name.” - -“Because you never heard it.” - -“Our young Ardan makes things up in his head,” said Naoise, in a -fatherly voice, while Ardan hid his blushes by attending to the fire. - -“Do you think,” Ainnle inquired, “that Cúchulinn could beat Fergus if -they fought?” - -Naoise regarded that query judicially. - -“I don’t know indeed,” he replied. - -“I think Cúchulinn could beat anybody,” Ardan broke in. - -Naoise continued, without regard to his youngest brother: - -“It was Fergus that taught Cúchulinn all his battle feats, and Fergus -knows everything that the Cú knows, but it may easily be that our Cúcuc -does not know all the things that Fergus knows.” - -“Fergus,” cried Ainnle indignantly, “would not keep a thing back, for -he wants Cúchulinn to be the best champion in Eirè.” - -“I think that is true,” replied the very judicial Naoise, “but there -are some things a fighter knows and can’t teach even if he wants to. -They are not tricks, they are what Conachúr calls ways, and Fergus has -‘ways’ in combat, as if he had been born in a fight and could go to -sleep in it if he wanted to.” - -“Do you remember,” cried Ainnle, “the champion that stopped to scratch -himself while he was fighting?” - -“Ho, ho,” laughed Ardan. - -“And the other champion chipped his hind end off while he was bending,” -gurgled Ainnle. - -“Wasn’t that man a great fool?” said Ardan solemnly. - -“No,” laughed Naoise, “it was just that he thought he had time to do -it. I saw that combat. It must have been that a wasp or hornet slid -into his leg band. He gave a jump and a quick bend to get at his leg, -but the other man jumped after him; then he gave another great jump and -another bend, and he got a little trip at the same time--that is how -the other champion slashed him; but everybody was laughing so much that -his life was spared, so he kept his head if he lost his tail.” - -“Ho, ho, ho!” roared Ardan. - -And it was his laughter that made Deirdre part with a squeal of glee -which so astonished her that she leaped to her feet and fled among the -trees, and so home. - -She had not spoken to the boys beyond the word of blessing and greeting -which could not be omitted. Ardan and Ainnle considered that it was -quite right a girl should be silent in the presence of champions, but -Naoise thought it was a pity she did not speak, for he was inclined to -fancy that her voice would be pleasant to listen to. - -[7] Naoise = pron. neesh-eh. - -[8] Cúchulinn = pron. Ku-hullin. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -If it rested only with the boys the girls might go unmarried, for boys -have urgent interests and have little of the leisure for dream which -girls enjoy. - -They feel, moreover, at a loss in that art wherein a girl seems -instinctively wise; for as a young bee will undertake untaught the -curious angles and subtle perfections of his home, so a girl will -adventure herself in love without misgiving and without teaching. - -The secret of the bee and of the girl is that they give their whole -minds to their idea; and this powerful concentration, wherein the -being comes to a oneness of desire, moves to its ends as unerringly as -a bird wings to the sole hedge he aims for among all the hedges of a -country-side. - -So, although Naoise did think again of their visitor, his thought of -her was but one among many, for he had grave businesses in hand, and, -except when he slept, his leisure for dreaming was limited. - -He had long since left the Boy Troop at Emania. He had performed the -feats by which an apprentice rises to be a master, and a full two years -had passed since Conachúr, in the presence of a solemn concourse, had -received him into the Red Branch, and bestowed on him the armour which -he had won, and the shield which he would honourably guard. - -He was a gentleman by birth, but he was now a soldier also, and must -lift his hand for those who besought protection or against those who -derided it. He would move habitually where death urged about him at no -greater distance than the length of a spear, and he would look upon -death as being so instant a part of life, that he must woo the one as -earnestly as he loved the other. - -His thought of Deirdre was also complicated by the knowledge that she -was his master’s ward, and his personal loyalty to Conachúr was such -that he would not dwell even in imagination on that which belonged to -the king. - -Stories of Deirdre had long ago come abroad. The fact of her lonely -keeping lent a romantic charm to gossip, and all that was said about -her was stressed by the singular condition of her birth and upbringing. -The old servants hinted and blinked and nodded, indicating thus a -beauty for which there was no parallel; and the ancient guards, partly -in brag, partly in truth, lent an aid to the spread of the Deirdre -rumour. - -These things, however, were to be talked about, but they were not to -be further looked into, for she belonged to the king, and curiosity -itself went lightly in the presence of that notable fact. Therefore, so -far as a young man could, Naoise put Deirdre out of his mind, or only -remembered her as a delicious apparition, and he warned his brothers -that they must on no account mention her escapade. - -But if this was the case with the boy it was not so with the girl. -For good or ill her imagination had been captured, and through it her -senses had awakened. Her fancies had now a home to fly to, and while -the unrest proper to her years grew as stealthily as her limbs, it was -no longer unnoted. She had a direction and she leaned there as ardently -and unconsciously as a flower turns to the sun. - -Now she became a creature of another reverie; no longer staring vaguely -into space, but looking there, and seeing what even the wise Lavarcham -could not surmise. - -This powerful brooding of desire is a magical act, and the object of it -does not remain entirely unaffected; for, even if no coherent message -is despatched, the unrest is shared in however diffused a form, and it -may be that in sleep Naoise was no longer the master of his dreams. - -But the real scope of an action is with the actor, and Deirdre, -brooding on Naoise, was Deirdre brooding on herself, and taking -conscious control and direction of her own growth and culture. -Lavarcham noticed the difference; for when she spoke to the girl she -was replied to by the woman, and she sensed in her ward something -intractable, obedient still, and yet as removed from her cognizance, -and so from her control, as she was herself from the cognizance of any -person about her. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -Therefore, when she next spoke to the king her mind was stirred by -uneasiness, and she had all that feeling of haste and work to be done -which comes to us when we seem void of direction and are yet spurred on -to an intuitive urgency. - -“Lavarcham, my soul,” said Conachúr, “you always get your way, for you -insist and insist, and at last whatever you wish must be done or there -is no peace in the household or the kingdom.” - -“In good truth,” said Lavarcham, “I do not recognize my fault this -time.” - -“We forget by repetition,” cried the king, “and you have so dinned our -ears these ages past about your babe that I must consent to see her or -perish from your importunities.” - -“That I am glad of,” replied Lavarcham, “for she is growing and needs -other guidance than I can give. You should find her a husband,” said -the crafty woman. - -“That must be done,” the king murmured. - -He was silent for a few minutes, for the thought of marriage reminded -him of his own adventures in that condition, and when he spoke it was -with an elaborate carelessness. - -“Have you heard any news of the High King?” - -“I have heard, but it is only a rumour, that his daughter, the queen -Maeve, has been married again, and that the High King has bestowed on -her the kingdom of Connacht.” - -“A number of our young men,” said he, with a hard smile, “have for long -enough disliked that kingdom and its people: it may become difficult to -keep them from crossing the border.” - -“One of their men,” said Lavarcham, “crosses the Black Pig’s Dyke often -enough.” - -“And, woe on it,” said Conachúr, with a cheerful laugh, “he gets back -again. We must strengthen the Connacht marches, or that man will make -our fortifications the laughter of all Ireland. It is Cet mac Magach -you speak of.” - -“Conall Cearnach’s uncle indeed,” Lavarcham replied. - -“But Conall crosses their borders too,” said the king. “My memory is -weakening,” he continued; “what is it that Conall boasts of?” - -“He boasts that he never goes to sleep without the head of another -Connachtman lying in the crook of his knees.” - -“Some day he may forget to remember that Cet mac Magach is his uncle, -and if he brings that head home we shall give it an honourable welcome. -But about your babe, I shall go and look at her to-morrow. All your -over-statements will crowd on your mind to-morrow, my poor friend, and -you will be very unhappy.” - -“Indeed,” Lavarcham admitted, “we look with a loving eye on the person -we love, and so may see less or more than is visible to other people.” - -“In love,” Conachúr replied, “we see only what we love to see, and as -that is unreal we should not look lovingly on anything, and so we may -get sight of what is really visible.” - -“It is true, master,” said Lavarcham humbly. - -“It is with such an eye that I shall look on your babe to-morrow.” - -“Alas! my poor Deirdre,” said Lavarcham. - -“The Troubler has not given much trouble yet,” laughed Conachúr. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -Lavarcham went home. - -The sense of urgency and unmeditated haste which for some time had been -in her mind was greater than ever, as though she were being pressed -to an action, thoroughly comprehended indeed, but for which she had -no plan and no explanation. There was something to be done; she knew -what it was but could not state it: and there was also something which -prevented its accomplishment; and she was similarly aware and unaware -of what this latter obstruction was. - -This sense of being controlled without being consulted, of being given -a key without being told what door it opens, is common to all people -who plan and are not sufficiently disengaged to observe that they -are being overridden by their own contrivance; for there is a point -up to which we control desire, but at the stage where other people’s -interests intersect ours those alien desires and our own meet: they -cease to be many and become one thing, and we are ridden in community -by the jinn we liberated. But we know with a profound, unconscious -certitude all that is happening, and are enlisted for those intuitive -purposes beyond the control of interest or prudence or reason. Habit -alone remains to guide us in these trackless ways, and it was her habit -of verbal reticence which calmed Lavarcham. - -Her first impulse had been to tell Deirdre with a rush that the king -was coming to see her on the next day. Her second impulse was cautious. -If I tell this, she thought, the child will not sleep all night, and -she will be heavy-eyed and dull before the king. - -Therefore she did not mention the matter to Deirdre. - -But she was no longer the calm lady whom the world knew. She would sit -down and stand up, and go wandering from room to room, and return from -these ramblings, to begin them all over again. She sat by Deirdre’s -side and took her hand, peering long and earnestly into the face she -loved: dwelling on the set of her eyes, the line of her cheek, the -poise of her lips and her chin: watching how her teeth shone and -disappeared as she spoke, what her tongue looked like as it became -visible for a short red flash: looking now at her ears and now at her -hair; or standing well away to take her in as a girl, as a completion, -with all details merged and the human unit standing full formed at the -eye. - -She cogitated what dress Deirdre should wear on the morrow: what -ornaments for her neck and hair; and then she thought, in a fever of -inspiration, that she would take no thought of these: that the girl -should be dressed even more plainly than usual: that there should be no -ornaments upon her of any kind: that there should be nothing to look at -but the girl herself with her hair for a crown, and her eyes for all -other attraction: the light eagerness of her limbs should be their own -witness: the colour of her cheek should be sufficient wonder for any -eye. - -And again she thought that men do not understand these things at a -glance; that they are used to looking for that which they have already -seen; and that they spend time, not so much in appreciating that which -is present, as in trying to account for the absence of that which they -had expected to see. And she remembered again that it was Conachúr -himself who was coming, with a mind which would ponder exactly what was -presented to it, and an eye that would regard no more than could be -seen. - -She determined, in terror, that she would not prepare Deirdre in any -way for the visit, and that until she was called into the presence the -child should know nothing even of an impending visitor. - -She arranged that this should happen, and at the accustomed hour the -torches were quenched and the folk of the household betook themselves -to their beds. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -But at the hour she considered suitable Deirdre rose again from her bed. - -She could not rest there, although she lay with the endless patience of -a cat, staring hour after hour into the gloom and seeing in it more of -radiance than the sun could show. - -She was living at last. - -The sense that all the morrows were provided for, and that all the -minutes of all the morrows were calculated and ordained, dropped from -her for ever, for she had become at last an identity instead of a -puppet to be pulled here and ordered there, and to do only what was -willed by other people; for first the imagination awakes, and then the -senses, and lastly the will, when the urge of life is focussed. - -Thinking of these other people, of Lavarcham and the grisly servants, -of the ramshackle, sneezing guards, all ringing her about from -freedom, a sense of rage came into her soul, so that at moments she -was no longer a girl but a wild cat, and she could have scratched and -screeched and died in one senseless outrage. - -Her mind, too, was overflowing with that same sense of urgency, as -though something clamoured to be done immediately and at a pace faster -than limbs could manage. What was it she wanted? She did not know, but -she knew definitely that she wanted it with a whole uncontrollable -mental greed that made of her a person she did not recognize and could -not battle with. - -But with all that tumult of mind she was patient with the marvellous -patience of youth, for no grown person has one tithe of the patience of -a child, who, from the hour he is born until the day when he snatches -liberty from reluctant elders, leads a life that is one unending lesson -in attending. They can wait, for they know that the future is theirs -and will come to them over whatever obstruction. And she could wait. - -When Lavarcham trod softly in her chamber she pretended to be asleep, -and amused herself staring behind closed lids at the red light which -the torch carried even through that darkness. She thought her guardian -would never go away, and lifting one scrap of an eyelash she saw -Lavarcham brooding upon her with such a fixity of attention, with so -profound a scrutiny, as surprised her. So curious and prolonged was -this examination that she almost opened her eyes to demand a reason -for this scrutiny from the face of ivory and jet that was bending over -hers. But she did not do so, for young people can bear starings and -examinations which would madden them later in life, and are able to -consider that affairs which actually circle upon them are yet not their -business. - -Lavarcham sighed deeply, and as in a passion of what?--fear, hope, -doubt--and then the light began to recede, and went farther away, and -disappeared. - -Deirdre knew every motion that Lavarcham made at night. Now she did -this, next she would do that, afterwards she would do such another -thing: an unvarying sequence of small details which she had watched or -listened to since the first hour that she was able to watch or listen. -So that when she came from her bed she left it with the certainty that -she might do so, and that all the habitual details had culminated in -the habitual sleep into which Lavarcham placed herself even when it did -not overcome her. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -The moon was at her last quarter, a pale thin sickle that shone and -disappeared and reappeared in a mass of hastily scudding cloud. During -that eclipse obscurity fell on the air, and a yet vaster quietude -enveloped the earth. Then the sickle reappeared, and with it more than -the darkness lifted. Something even more mysterious than darkness -vanished intermittently; that brooding as of an infinite presence -seemed to recede, and the normal world, beautiful and comprehended, -came silverly to the view. - -Through these glooms and visions Deirdre fled, observing every shadow -as a hare does, who, knowing that this shade is a danger and that one -a protection, ventures a pace or stays as his hard-won knowledge bids -him. - -A cloud of such a size meant a shadow of such a duration. This cloud -will carry one across the lawn, and when it has passed, the trees -yonder will be won and their desired shade. From the south another -cloud was coming, bulky as a two-acre field and buoyant as a gossamer. -Folded in its gloom the wall could be crossed and the shelter of trees -or of long grass reached before the moon came riding, delicately, in a -radiance that was one half silver and one half blue. - -So she fled. The lark watching from a dew-drenched covert was not more -discreet as it turned again to the slumber that she had broken; and -when she took the wall the bat that whirled from it made more noise -than she did. - -At times, when there was neither light nor dark, a world of grey and -purple that was thirty feet high and fifteen feet around enclosed -her in. And she stretched her ears towards the bounds of that small -universe before she ventured another step. - -Wonderful and terrifying were these dim oases of vision; and across -them, coming from no place and dallying a moment ere they went on to -nowhere, more silent than the night itself and as incomprehensible, -grey moths were flitting; dim as ghosts they were, and as aloof; -beating a tireless gauze on no errand, tacking back and forth, and -disappearing in one flirt of a noiseless wing. Small creatures seemed -to wait until her foot must fall on them, and then, with a sound that -lasted for two long seconds of panic, they were gone; they disappeared, -and the world was utterly empty of them. At these sounds she stood, her -heart beating up at her throat and a sense of angry despair flooding -over and about her. Then she moved again; slipping into and out of -shadows as featly as the moonbeam slipped into and out of a cloud. - -She knew where she was going, but not what she was going to do. She -would see him again because she must, and after that, if there was more -to be done the time to do it would bring the doing. But the one large -apprehension was as yet sufficient for her mind--that she would see him -again, and that they would talk together. She was sure that this time -he would speak to her, and that whatever he said would be wiser and -sweeter and stranger than any words she had yet listened to; and she -wondered, without thought, what his magical utterance would mean and -how it could possibly be replied to; knowing yet that her replies were -already formed, and that the only word she need utter until she died -was the word “yes.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -She stood again behind a tree, looking on the camp-fire and the three -figures that stretched or moved about it. She listened, but now -without joy, to the babel of laughter which sped between them. Back -and forth it went, endless, tireless. Youth calling and answering to -youth; catching a facile fire from each other, and tossing it back as -carelessly. Spendthrift they were as young gods; care-free as young -animals; with minds untroubled because they need not work, and bodies -that were at ease because they were active; scorning the darkness in -a gaiety that was delicious because it was thoughtless, and with a -thoughtlessness that was lovely because it was young. But, to her, -watching, listening, waiting, all that merriment was a torment. She -was their peer in youth and activity, but she was their superior in -that she was thoughtful, for desire is thought not yet translated, -and her desire would swell about the world and banish all else from -existence so that she could fashion the regal solitude in which so -gigantic a mystery might be contemplated. - -Why, she thought frowningly, did these children not go to sleep? And -why, she wondered, should older people submit to annoyance or be forced -to await any young person’s convenience? - -But the night was advanced, and young people will sleep. Soon they -stretched about the fire, and each composed himself to the slumber -which comes as deliciously in its season as waking does; and, for their -life favoured it, they fell into sleep as precipitately as though they -were falling down a cliff. - -She could scarcely wait for the five minutes that was required. Then -she plucked a scrap of moss and tossed it on Naoise’s breast. - -As he fell asleep so he sprang awake: he went dead asleep: he came -wide awake, with every faculty alert, and his limbs as composed for -movement as for rest. He saw the scrap of moss lying on his bosom, and, -knowing that such things do not travel of their own accord, he looked -for the cause, searching keenly among the boles that stretched in -endless gleam and gloom about them. - -She stood forward a pace. - -Had she really moved, or was she impelled? Surely a hand had taken her -by the shoulder and pushed her forward! But in the moment that she -moved panic seized her as suddenly and overwhelmingly as a hawk swoops -upon a mouse. She lifted a hand to her breast so that her heart might -not be snatched away, but the hand went on to her lips and covered them -in terror lest they should call. She turned with one swift and flying -gesture, but the foot that aimed for flight continued its motion, and -the full circle held her again facing the terror. For he had already -risen, lithe as a cat and as noiseless, and in three great strides he -was standing beside her, standing over her, encompassing her about; not -now to be retreated from or escaped from or eluded in any way. - -And as her heart had leaped so his leaped also, and they stood in an -internal tumult, so loud, so intimate and violent, that the uproar and -rush of a storm was quietude in the comparison. - -They could not speak. There were no words left in the world. There were -only eyes that plunged into and fled from each other, and a mighty hand -that had gripped her arm and would never release it again. A hand that -pushed her backwards and backwards, away from the friendly logs that -crackled and flamed; away from the quiet forms that might have rescued -her but that lay as though slumbering in stone. She might have escaped -with one sound, but the law of her being was that she must not make a -sound. She might have escaped by just a show of reluctance; one small -opposition, nay, hesitation, to the pressure of that hand. But she -would not make that infinitesimal wraith of motion. A weariness as of -piled worlds went from his finger to her mind, and it was forbidden her -to have any longer an initiative. A lethargy that was utter surrender -stole into her limbs. She did not think, she did not desire: she was -as void of speculation as though she were dead; and while his hand -continued to guide she would go, and when it ceased she would no longer -be capable of either movement or repose. - -All fear of interruption had passed, and yet they went on cautiously, -noiselessly, as though interruption was imminent or unescapable; -putting trees and yet more trees between them and the leaping fire; -striving to forget the fire; seeking a more involved darkness, and -finding everywhere a gloom that yet revealed them. They could not -discover darkness. They could not get to a place where they could cease -to see each other. Always it looked black farther on, and always when -they got there they could each see the pale confronting face of the -other, with the darkness everywhere but in those faces. - -They stopped perforce, with that feeling of tremendous discouragement -wherein passion sinks back upon itself, where desire ceases and nothing -is instant but weariness. His hand yet held her, but it gripped no -longer: it lay on her arm as a dead weight: she had only to move an -inch and it would fall away: she had but to turn and he would not -follow her even with his eyes; but the energy which had drained from -him flooded into her in one whirling stream, and when his hand fell -away hers took up the duty it relinquished. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -If Lavarcham had ever permitted herself excitement she would have -been excited the next day. But there is a curious means by which we -may postpone the spending of our emotions. There are many people who -can only do a particular thing on condition that they do it in two -directions. They can repress themselves only when they are engaged -in repressing some one else; for the thing we are doing outwardly -and to others is always the thing that we are doing inwardly and to -ourselves. If we treat others benevolently we are assuredly being kind -to ourselves: if we mete out torment we will receive that measure and -will writhe in it. A tyrant is ultimately one who is striving for -self-mastery by the wrong method. But in order to be good you must do -good, or to be anything you must do that thing concretely, for life -is movement and all else is movement too. Lavarcham by unconscious -processes discovered that Deirdre needed the utmost disciplinary and -repressive measures that could be applied to a human being. - -“The child is running wild,” she complained to the air that circulated -about Deirdre’s head. - -“But I have not done a thing,” cried Deirdre. - -“There are a thousand things you should have done,” Lavarcham replied. - -“What are they?” Deirdre demanded. - -But Lavarcham did not know. - -She certainly felt within herself the necessity for doing a thousand -things. She felt so busy that there must really be a thousand things to -be done. But she knew also that nothing remained for her to do, and, -consequently, that Deirdre was to blame. - -The real thing she had to do was to master her own excitement, and she -perceived at a glance that Deirdre was in a very excited condition -indeed. - -“You must sit quietly, my treasure,” she counselled. “You must not -move from one place to another, taking things up and putting them down. -You will become fidgety yourself and will give every one about you the -fidgets also.” - -“But----” Deirdre expostulated. - -“And you must not give back-answers. When you are told to do a thing -you must do it cheerfully and patiently----” - -“But----” cried Deirdre. - -“For,” Lavarcham continued, “lacking this self-control and gentleness -of movement no girl can become a lady.” - -“But,” Deirdre exploded, “I have not done a thing.” - -“You know, my one treasure, that everything I say is for your good, and -when I counsel you it is because I consider you need just that counsel. -You are distraught to-day, my bud of the branch, and there is no reason -why you should not be as calm to-day as you were yesterday or any -day. This is only to-day, but to-morrow will come and to-day will be -forgotten.” - -“I do not understand in the least----” Deirdre began. - -“There is nothing to understand, my beloved. There is not a reason in -the world why you should be troubled. Sit now at your embroidery, and -do not leave it until I give permission.” - -Deirdre was indeed excited, but Lavarcham had not the smallest -perception of this: nor was it visible. It was a very intimate -excitement, which could be brooded and enjoyed as well over a piece -of embroidery as in any other way. And Lavarcham watched her, sensing -nothing of that deep agitation and memory and dream. - -I was wise, she thought, not to tell the news, for the child seems even -more beautiful to-day than she has ever seemed before. She has slept -well. - -While they were thus sitting a servant hurried into the room, with her -eyes bolting from her head, and a gabble on her lips which Lavarcham -only repressed by ferocity, for she surmised at once that the king had -arrived, and she did not even yet wish Deirdre to know of the visit. - -She rose and precipitated herself against the servant. - -“Is that how you enter a room, ill-bred slave? Was it among the cattle -that you learned manners? Begone at once,” she cried, “and do not -come into a room again until you have asked and received permission -to enter. What is the world coming to?” she continued angrily as she -hustled the servant through the door and down the corridor. - -“It’s the son of Ness----” the servant babbled. - -“And if it is,” said Lavarcham, “there is the more reason for you to be -attentive and respectful and unseen. Go to your place and stay there -until I send for you.” - -She returned then, and, still simulating ill-temper, she dismissed -Deirdre to her own room. - -“You have not properly trimmed your finger-nails,” she scolded; “there -is a black spot under one of them. You are not seemly. Go to your room -at once, little blossom, and when you come back come so that your -fosterer need not be ashamed of her charge.” - -Saying so, she marched Deirdre to her room and thrust her in. Then she -returned, and, seating herself at the embroidery from which she had -driven her ward, she prepared to receive the king. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -“Well, my heart,” said the king, as he strode through the door of the -Sunny Chamber. - -With a keen glance he took in all that was to be seen. The woodwork of -the walls and floors that were polished and polished again until they -shone like crystal. The great carved chairs, each placed at the same -prim distance from the other and from the wall; and the skins and furs -that formed geometrical patterns and gradations of colour on the floor. - -Conachúr shook his head as he regarded. - -“Methodical,” he said, as he sat down. - -“Orderly, master,” she corrected gently. - -“It is a woman’s room,” he insisted. “No man could live in it.” - -“No man does,” said the humble dame. - -“And by merely entering I have ruined it already,” the king continued -in a grievous tone; “I have kicked three rugs out of alignment,” he -said ruefully. - -“It is a small matter,” said Lavarcham. - -“I am certain that your heart is ill at ease, and although your hands -are folded they are twitching to restore these rugs; rearrange them if -you must, my good friend.” - -“If the king permits me,” she cried joyfully, and with a few deft -touches she replaced the rugs. - -“You may sit down,” said the king. “And now, where is this baby you -deafen the world about?” - -Lavarcham clapped her hands, and, to the servant who appeared in the -doorway-- - -“Tell your mistress, Deirdre, that she is required immediately--and do -not tell her that a visitor is with me, or woe betide you.” - -The servant disappeared. - -Conachúr looked at her quizzically. - -“The girl does not know that I was coming?” - -Lavarcham pursed her lips. - -“I have not mentioned it to her.” - -The king, with his elbow on his knee, continued to regard her mockingly. - -“Is it that you are careful or careless, my friend?” - -“I am careful, master. I am always careful,” she replied. - -“But,” he continued gently, “she will not be apparelled so as to be -looked on by a visitor.” - -“She will be seen as she would be seen any hour of any day, and thus it -will be known, master, that Lavarcham does her duty.” - -“You are the wonder of Emania,” said Conachúr. “I hear a step,” he -continued, and, removing his elbow from his knee, he stretched out a -great leg and turned towards the door. - -Deirdre entered like a whirlwind of legs and laughter, and, seeing a -huge man staring at her, she halted as if she had been stopped by a -wall, whirled about and would have vanished again but that Lavarcham’s -voice restrained her. - -“The king has come to visit us, my pulse,” said the suave Lavarcham. - -The blood pounded into Deirdre’s heart and into her temples; for -an instant her body seemed to be filled with noise and blindness, -and in the next instant the lady, trained for every emergency and in -every etiquette, was mistress again. Deirdre advanced, made a great -reverence, and knelt at the king’s knee. - -He gave her his hand to kiss. - -“You may rise, my fawn,” said the monarch. - -She arose and stood with downcast eyes. She did not dare to look at -him. All that came within her vision was a mighty leg draped in green -silk, from which long tassels of gold swung gently. The king stared -narrowly at her, and Lavarcham stared narrowly at the king. - -“Go now, my dear,” said Lavarcham, “and see that refreshments are -brought for the king.” - -Deirdre again made her deep reverence, and, on rising, her hasty upward -glance was caught by Conachúr’s eye. She trod swiftly backwards, -staring, and it was with parted lips and wide eyes that she disappeared -from the room. - -But the king continued staring at the doorway like one who has seen -a vision and is striving with every fibre to recreate that which has -vanished. - -“Was I not right, master?” said Lavarcham gently. - -“She is the Bud of the Branch,” said Conachúr. “She is the Fragrant -Apple of the Bough.” - -“Did I not say that she was beautiful?” cried the gleeful and vehement -lady. - -“You did not say so,” he replied sternly. “You never told me of this.” - -“Nay, master, you would not believe me.” - -“It could not be told,” the thoughtful monarch admitted. “If the -flight of the swallow could be imparted by words, or the crisping of -foam: if the breath of the lily could be uttered, or the beauty of a -young tree on a sunny hill: then this Troubler might be spoken of. -Have you noticed, my friend, how the sun paints glories and wonders -on the sky as he goes west in the evening, or at early morn with what -noble tenderness he comes again: she is radiant and tender as the sun, -Lavarcham.” - -“Thus it is,” said Lavarcham. - -“She is nine times sweeter than the cuckoo on the branch,” he cried. -“I give her the Pass before all the women of the world, for she is -notable and delicate and dear.” - -“Then you will marry her as is fitting,” Lavarcham pleaded. “You will -not give my baby to a rough gentleman.” - -The king stood furiously from his chair. - -“She is for no man but the king,” he stormed. “She shall be my one wife -until Doom.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -In ten seconds the floor rugs had sailed from their anchorages and were -lying some neatly inside out and all in woeful askewness. The chairs -left their military formation; some stood seat to seat like couples -preparing for a dance, others in the woeful, slack isolation of those -who stare after uncivil partners that have fled. And in this wreckage -of a woman’s room Conachúr strode. - -“Lavarcham,” he cried, “there shall be great deeds done in Ireland from -this day.” - -“Yes, my dear lord.” - -“I am twenty years younger than I was an hour ago. I could leap like a -young buck, Lavarcham.” - -“Yes, my dear lord,” she stammered. - -“Poets shall sing more wisely in Eirè because of this day; harpers -shall play more sweetly; the magicians shall win increase of power, for -through me this land shall be possessed by power and beauty.” - -“Yes, my sweet lord,” cried the transformed woman. - -“You shall be with me always, Lavarcham.” - -“Oh, my master!” - -“I shall marry thee to an hero, and thy descendants for ever shall sit, -even in the presence of a king.” - -“Nay, I shall kneel, and all my seed shall kneel in the house of my -dear lord.” - -“Sit down, my soul, and let us talk. Lavarcham,” he said, “that girl -shall be my wife.” - -“I have dreamed of this day,” she murmured. - -“You knew I would marry her?” - -“I knew that my lord loves the best, and that she is the best. I -trained her for my lord.” - -“She is the best,” he conceded. “She is better than the best.” - -“The king will never blush for his bride, nor I for my training,” she -continued, “for in everything that becomes a lady she is well taught.” - -“So!” said Conachúr. - -“There is no ceremony of court or camp that she does not understand. -There is no domestic care that she is not mistress of. She can touch -the harp like a master, she can make a poem like a bard.” - -“You give me pleasure, Lavarcham, but all these she need do or not do -as she pleases. Tell me rather of herself, what is her mode? What is -her way of thinking?” - -“She is loving and obedient as a pet fawn, and she is wild-spirited as -a wild fawn. She is thoughtful for others; she loves knowledge, and she -fears nothing.” - -“Even lacking all this, there is yet the makings of a queen in her.” - -Lavarcham nodded a satisfied head. - -“But she does not lack, and she is a queen. In a week, when she has -become used to the crowd and the court, all the others will fall back -to their own places and she will remain in her place.” - -“I think it will be so. But,” and he aroused again, “you have said -nothing about the curve of her cheek, Lavarcham.” - -“What would a poor woman say of that!” she cried gleefully. - -“I saw her neck when she bent over my hand, and I saw the two great -tresses falling away on either side. Lavarcham, that was a wonder to -see!” - -“We see with our own sight, master.” - -“When she stood up I saw the lips that had touched my hand: and I -looked in her eyes as she went away. There is no end to those depths -of light, and I can imagine that they would change as the deep sea -changes. If she were angry they would be--thus; and if she smiled they -would be thus again; the same and different. If she smiled her lips -would move in the smile. How do her lips go when they smile, Lavarcham?” - -“These are things which women are blind to, master; they are seen only -by men. You must ask your poets to tell of them, for this is man’s -talk, and no woman is versed in it.” - -“Lavarcham!” - -“Yes, master!” - -“I shall take her away with me this day.” - -“Master!” - -“Bring her to the Red Branch at nightfall.” - -“Master!” - -“At nightfall, you hear me.” - -“I will not do it.” - -“What will you not do, slave, that I order?” - -“I will not debauch your queen.” - -“Lavarcham----!” - -“No one shall make a leman of my babe.” - -“She shall return in a few hours. Be with her at the Red Branch -to-night. Do not fail on your life.” - -“If I bring her my knife will be in her bosom.” - -Conachúr leaned back in his chair and the terrible staring frown went -from his face. - -“We shall certainly marry Lavarcham to an hero. I am impatient, my -heart, but strength and victory lies always with the one who can abide, -and I can, even in torment. Have your way, woman.” - -“It is the best way, master. You shall thank me yet for this way.” - -He smiled wryly. - -“Dear, my lord,” she continued earnestly, “there must be the ceremonies -that befit a king’s wedding, and guests must be invited from the four -great Provinces of Ireland. It cannot all be done before two little -months.” - -“You shall have one week, my friend.” - -“A week! O my master!” - -“A woman’s mind runs to gauds and tricks and rites, but in a week we -two shall be married, and you may have ceremonies for a year afterwards -if you wish for them.” - -Lavarcham wrung her hands. - -“O my sweet lord----” - -“It shall be so,” said the king. - -Lavarcham sat dumb. - - * * * * * - -“In this house,” he continued impatiently, “refreshments are long in -appearing, and after those excitements and battlings we need them.” - -“They only wait permission to enter,” she stammered, and clapped her -hands. - -Deirdre appeared with three servants carrying silver trays. She took -one and knelt to present it to the king. - -“Nay, you shall partake with me, and Lavarcham shall serve us. Let -those others go.” - -At a sign from Lavarcham the servants placed their trays on tables and -retired with terrified courtesies. - -“Taste from the cup, my brightness,” said Conachúr, “and afterwards I -shall taste.” - -“A Rí Uasal!” Deirdre stammered. - -“All precedence is yours from this hour. Are you not called the -Troubler?” - -“I am, lord.” - -“You have troubled the king, O sky-woman. Do not be shy with me or -frightened, for although a king is terrible to all he is not fearful to -a queen. Drink from my cup, O queen.” - -Deirdre glanced hastily towards Lavarcham, for this conversation had -taken a turn which her training had not provided for, but her guardian -was sitting bemused, in a trance of benevolence and admiration. - -She sipped from the cup, and, with a tiny smile of apology and fear, -tendered it again to the staring king. He took the vessel, and her hand -with it. - -“I imagined it so,” he said; “I imagined how the thin red lip would -arch and curve and cling to the cup; and I foresaw how it would cling -and uncurve and re-arch and withdraw. The poets tell of such wonders -when they can, but I know these things by my own virtue better than -they do. One day, O shy cluster of delight, you will sing to me: my -harper shall listen to that when I can bear a companion, for I may -grudge a sight or a sound of you even to the men of art. I shall see -your hair done otherwise, and this way again. I shall see you stir -about me, this side and that and backwards; a thousand harmonies of -movement that I divine and a thousand that I know nothing of. Do not be -fearful, O little twisted loop of the ringlets, for you are my beloved. -You shall have no weariness or lack for ever, for I shall fold you in -my affection as a hawk folds air within her wings. You shall leave -these bleak halls and yon mangy field to sit at the banquets in the Red -Branch: to be the Queen of Ulster, the pearl of the world, and my own -heart’s comrade.” - -Deirdre was the more alarmed, not only because a strange and mighty -gentleman was holding a strange and monstrous discourse to her, but -he was holding her hand, and she did not know how to retrieve it. She -thought it would not be polite to laugh, although she vastly wanted -to, and she knew it would be foolish to cry, although she was so -bewildered and terrified that an ocean of frightened tears was surging -behind her eyes. - -“Lavarcham, my sweet mother,” she murmured in distress. - -And that low plaint went to Conachúr’s heart like a sword of delight, -so that his soul was shaken and he could have wept for pity and love. - -“Return to your embroidery, my child,” said Lavarcham. “I shall come to -you later and prepare your mind for all that is in store for you.” - -Deirdre stood up then and fled, only remembering her courtesy at the -doorway. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -Lavarcham came to her as promised, and she told Deirdre for hours of -the delights to come. - -“In a week,” she said, “you will be gone from here, and our home will -be desolate indeed. But although the king called this a bleak den, and -spoke of our demesne as a mangy field, he was not right in doing so. -A house is bleak that has no children running and shouting in it, and -this house will be bleak when you are gone; but in all other respects -a cleaner or better appointed dwelling will not be found in the Five -Great Fifths of Ireland; mark me well, child, the king was excited and -unjust, and I shall tell him so. When you rule in Emania you will find -how difficult it is to keep all things in order, and how hard it is to -have even one room clean; for men will be stirring at all hours of the -day and night in your palace, and although they can make a home in a -field men make nothing but dirt in a house. - -“You will have much to do and to remember, my secret bud, but, above -all, you must remember the genealogies of Ireland and the precedences -of the court as I have taught them to you, and in any doubt or dispute -ask me rather than the herald. The chief cause of trouble in a country -is the herald, for he is always wrong, and even when he is right in -fact he is wrong in tact. Do not take any other woman’s counsel in -those matters; do not even seek it--the one wish of all women is to -advance their husbands, and themselves by consequence, and they will -ruin the world if they are let. - -“Do not forget that, after the king, the first man in the land is -Fergus the son of Roy. Be quick in respect to him, but be slow to sit -by him or to talk with him, for Conachúr loves him on the surface, -but he hates him in the bone. The first woman in the land is the wife -of Fergus, the king’s mother. Be obedient to Ness in everything. Be -quick in your courtesies to her. Give her many kisses. Be careful -not to love her, for her love is uncertain as a cat’s paw, and where -she strikes she draws blood. But these two are not often at Emania. -They live in their fortress, deep in love, or in thought, as Conachúr -fancies. - -“You will see Findcheam, the wife of Amargin the Wonderful, -and Dervorgilla, wife of Lugad of the Red Stripes, -Fedelm-of-the-Fresh-Heart, the wife of Laerí the Victorious, and -Niab, the daughter of Celtchar mac Uthecar, and Brig Brethach, his -wife. Hussies all! spit-fires and scratch-cats! There is Lendubair, -Conall Cearnach’s wife, and Findige, wife of Eogan mac Durthacht, and -Fedelm-of-the-Nine-Shapes, the king’s daughter. They, and an hundred -others. You will meet them all. - -“They have all been whispering of you this year back: and they have -told more lies of you than will be told again until you die. You will -like them at first, for many of them are nearly of your age, and they -will fuss and gallop and chatter about you like daws. Give them all the -listening you like, give them all the kisses they will take--Oh, you -will be kissed from morning to night, my pet--but do not give one of -them a moment’s confidence. - -“The king will talk to you urgently, whispering in your ear like a -madman. There is nothing he will not tell you in the night, however -deep it is, or hidden; for a man in love will give all that he has -to the beloved; he would give his soul if he knew how to do it; and -Conachúr will think that by telling all his secrets to you he will -somehow tell all your secrets to himself. Men are so. But that which -he tells must be uttered to no other ear, for what is whispered in the -palace will be shouted down the Boyne. You can tell me all, for I am -different; I am your nurse, your mother, and your one friend, but to no -other person must you shape even one syllable. - -“When the king has confided to you all that he can think of he will -beg you to confide in him: he will pray you to tell him all that you -have even done or thought--when he tells you of the wild glees and -savageries of love tell him in return of how you feed your pet fawn; -for a man, and the gods know why, delights to think that his beloved -has a fawn in the valley, and he will listen for ever to the tale of -how it is fed and of its grateful eyes. - -“You will meet many men in the palace, and each gentleman that you -speak to will be looked at closely by the king. Until this day he has -been aware of women as one is aware of the sun, but now he will grow -aware of men as one is aware of a wound. You will not see him look, -but look he will; and when you seem most free from observation he will -be studying you. Whether it be a captain or a butler that your eyes -rest on, he will know, without looking, at whom you are looking, and -thereafter he will examine that person for himself, and he will examine -you in curious ways about that person. Any question he ever asks about -a man will be a trap for you. Answer him carelessly about them all, and -make the same answer about them all. - -“It is safe to say of all men that they are nice, but do not say that -one is nicer than another. There is no end to the windings of his mind, -and if you say that one man is ugly and another not he will dream about -the distinction and will dream you terribly into his dream. A dreaming -man is magical, for he will make the dream come true against his own -wish and interest, and Conachúr is at the age to have those dreams.@ - -“Be gentle and uncertain with him. Be wild and coy. Do not, although -he prays you, be familiar with him. Tire quickly of dalliance, for in -middle life a man likes not to think that he has wearied first. Dance -often but do not gambol. Be girlish but not childish. Do not pluck his -beard or tickle him. Sit sparingly on his knee. It is only old men who -like baby tricks, and he is not, by fifteen years, old enough for that. - -“Discuss your dresses and ornaments with him: ask his advice about your -ribbons; he will laugh at you and chide you, but he will love that to -be done, and he will love you for doing it. Should he be sportive among -women, pout then a little, make a small lament, but take no heed of it. -He has outlived all the chances of desire. - -“He will love you only, and each day he will love you more. What fear -there is will be on his side; he will be afraid of men; and there your -heed must be endless, for you must not hurt the king even by a second’s -thoughtlessness. His equal is not in Eirè for majesty and wisdom. He -is a great king, a great man, a royal hero. O my lamb! all that is of -good luck and of noble fate has come to you, and you should thank the -king for ever on your knees, and thank your poor Lavarcham who planned -this happiness.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -And Conachúr lived anew as he drove homewards. - -He did not see the humble people who louted and stared as he dashed by, -nor the others who stood at strict attention marvelling at a king who -returned no salute. - -His feet were so light he could have bounded in the chariot, but his -heart was lighter still. - -It flew into his brain and stayed there, buoyant as a bubble, creative -as a moon; so charging his mind with its own essence that all which -was material merged in a flash to the spirit. The earth was eased of -grossness and became a shimmer of colours and transparencies; an aura -of gold and green rose on the crests of the manifolding hills. The -tender involutions of no bird’s song were heard, for all songs merged -into that of the lyrical earth and the clouds and the shining spaces -between them. The world was singing for Conachúr, and he was song. For -to the clairvoyance of love all that is unseen takes on sweet shape, -and all that we see we are shapen to. A new world emerges softly -from the old: not imperceptibly and unreckoned, but by such divine -gradations as we may note and rejoice in. Then the creator is manifest -in his creation, and all in us. We are it and all: we are the soul of -the world, and our own soul: we are the victors, for we are beyond -fear: we are the masters, for we are beyond desire. - -How should fear or lust reach to the tops we spurn! The sour-faced -beggar shaking his oaken bowl may have our purse and a clasp of the -hand to boot. Yon shaking anatomy that hovers and limps shall have our -own health if none other is at hand, for all now is soft and easy, and -at one bend of a brow the Land of Heart’s Desire may be in being. - -So Conachúr went, dreaming; the shaper of a world that was malleable to -his wish. - -To this hour he had triumphed in all that he had undertaken, but he -had been unfriended, forging alone as in granite all that he willed, -and feeling at every instant the rigour of life and the intractability -of events. He saw that nothing he had yet done was so completed that it -might be forgotten. Here an event had left dissatisfaction in its wake: -there it had left an enemy. But from henceforth his work would have the -clean finish of the spring, and all that he planted should grow from -the root. - -He would have double strength; his titanic own, and hers, breathing in -him like an elixir, exciting him, heartening him. She was--what was -she not! She was his to-morrow. She was his all and his last chance. -She was his future, vivifying all that had grown stale, and unfolding -horizons where an uttermost end had seemed. For at times an ending -comes on every man, and thereafter there is nothing to strive for, -there being nothing left to hope for; energy winces from the thought -of any task, and the future but prolongs a present that is insipid and -wearisome. - -The departure of Maeve had been such an ending for Conachúr. Life had -halted there for him, or had moved in a round of sameness which chafed -and tormented his whirling mind. But he could forget her now and start -afresh, for when he looked on Deirdre she went into his blood and into -his bones, so that to be removed from her was as though he were distant -from his own arms or his own head. - -He was impatient, and wished that all should know, as at one shout, his -glorious news, but he yet would not speak of it to any one. He knew -that he might safely leave the publishing of that event to Lavarcham, -and that ere nightfall every house in a radius of twenty miles would be -talking of the king’s marriage. - -Down every road that ran from Emain Macha messengers would be going -in swift chariots to tell the tale and to bid those who were worthy -to the wedding feast. Not stopping for more than a few minutes at any -place; changing horses at the guest-houses, and dashing off again; some -deep into Connacht in the west, others eastwards into Leinster, and -more again speeding the long centre of Ireland to the two Munsters. -These distant kings and princes would think they had been slighted by -such short notice, or by a notice that could only reach them after the -event. But his wedding feast should endure for three months, and there -would be pleasure and leisure for all. At this moment, if Lavarcham was -doing her duty (and she was never neglectful), the ostlers should be -pulling the great chariots out and backing the snorting horses between -the shafts. - -To-morrow would be a new day. - -Every person who observed the king would look on him with something -else in the regard. Many reserves would be down, many barriers broken; -for all people look differently on the king when he is in love, and -they try to bathe in his fortunate regard. - -The men would glance at him shyly and subtly: each look a reminder -and a well-wishing. While he stood among them he and they would laugh -without any word being said, and they would be more familiar with him -than they would otherwise dare. But if one dared to clap his shoulder, -Conachúr would clap that comrade’s shoulder again. - -The women would look at him more openly; more softly and broodingly; -each mutely assuring him that all which was to come would be good; each -telling him that woman guards for man all that which no man can give; -each telling that because he loved one woman he must love all, and that -women are truly lovable, and are precious beyond all precious things. -He would see that they all wished to touch him, so that he might know -they were truly woman and not different from her he delighted in; -and he would see them turn from him, humbled and aggrieved, seeking -anxiously in other eyes for the confirmations which he must not give. - -For when the king is in love the world goes mad, and all who love him -must cherish each other or sicken of their suppressed loyalty and -adoration. - -For weeks to come Ulster would be an orgy. The man who had dodged -marriage as a fox tricks the hen-wife would tumble into it with a thud: -those who craved for and feared it would find that they were married -in a morning: maids would become daring and men shy. From one, walking -coyly in the moonlight, a shoulder-band might slip, and the moon and a -man would be rewarded for being out at night. One who stood and spoke -might suddenly shape her lips thus, and the man who looked would go -blind in his brains and stay so to the last quarter of the moon. A wave -of frolic and daring would go from the king, and thrill to the last -hamlet in his kingdom; for although war is glorious, death is its ruler -and companion; but from love life flows and everything that is lovely. - -And, as his heart rose thus, Conachúr knew that he was the life of his -people, for he was king and lover, and that all swung about him as the -world swings round the sun. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -But for Deirdre a night went by which to the end of her days she would -not care to remember. - -She had seen the king at last: that being, all memory and dream, -half monster and half baby, whom she remembered from Lavarcham’s -endless tale. She had seen the grave brow, the graver eyes, the -bushy, reddish-yellow hair looped back to the slope of his poll, and -the yellow beard cleft at the centre and foaming in two points to -the breast. She could not have thought that a man might be so huge, -so steady, so masterful. He was a being to whom one might pray, or -for whom one might die joyfully. If a lord came striding from the -Shí surely he would look as Conachúr did: massive and dazzling and -wonderful; with an eye from which one winced as from the sun, and with -a voice that trolled and astonished like the note of a beaten drum. She -remembered his hand that could hold both of her own with ease, and the -great ridge of his shoulders, sloping away like the easy run and fall -of a mountain. - -And this terrific being claimed her as his wife! - -Nothing but terror filled her heart at that prospect, for she could -not see him in any terms of intimacy or affection. He was and would -remain as remote as her childhood, and no mere nearness could make him -present. And he would be as unaccountable as are the elements that -smile to-day and rage to-morrow in hurricane. What woman could reckon -his parts or his total? He was like some god that had come out of the -hills to astonish and terrify. - -And there was Naoise! - -As her memory retrieved the beloved name her heart went bustling to her -throat, and she sat raging and terrified. - -It was not that he would be defrauded of her: it would be his own -business to be woeful on that count; but she would be defrauded of -him, and her proper lack was as yet sufficient for her mood, for -lacking him what could be returned to her? Her hands went cold and her -mouth dry as she faced such a prospect. - -The youth who was hers! Who had no terrors for her! Who was her equal -in years and frolic! She could laugh with him, and at him. She could -chide him and love him. She could give to him and withhold. She could -be his mother as well as his wife. She could annoy him and forgive him. -For between them there was such an equality of time and rights that -neither could dream of mastery or feel a grief against the other. He -was her beloved, her comrade, the very red of her heart, and her choice -choice. - -Deirdre leaped from the bed, but she could not leap from her thoughts, -and she could not attempt the crazy and mazy corridors of her home to -fly to him; for the excited household was clattering and chattering in -the corridors, and she could no more escape by them than a bird can -escape by its cage. - -It was not until two nights had passed that she could dare the wall; -and in the intervening days she must listen to Lavarcham, endless in -caution and advice. - -Do this, but do not on your life do that. Remember this always, and -this and this and this. There seemed as much to remember not to forget -as there was to remember to remember. - -Deirdre would turn an eye on her guardian so lack-lustre at times, and -again so woeful or wild, that the good lady marvelled. - -“Do not be frightened, my silk of the flock,” her guardian soothed, -“there is every cause for joy and none for fear. In three days you -will be the most envied lady in Ulster, and in four you will be the -happiest. Tell Lavarcham what is in your mind and what you are afraid -of?” - -“I am in dread of the king,” said Deirdre. - -“That will pass,” Lavarcham advised, “and in a few days you will wonder -that you could have been frightened. But a maid is a maid: all that -she thinks or dreams is founded on inexperience, and has nothing to -do with reality: the world pours into a young girl’s lap heedless of -what she wished or dreaded; for no person can either hope or fear until -they know actually that which is hopeful or frightful. All you need do -is to accept what your heart approves of, and what your heart rejects -you can throw away. There is everything to hope for and nothing to be -afraid of.” - -But her chance did come at last. - -She found the sons of Uisneac still at their encampment, but they -were a silent trio. They were more than silent: they were abashed and -embarrassed. - -“What is it?” Deirdre murmured, feeling the constraint. - -“We are bidden to your wedding,” said Naoise shyly. - -The mild candour of his voice went into her heart like a sword, so that -she could not speak to him, and it was to his brother she turned. - -“What shall we do, dear Ainnle?” she asked. - -But he had no answer for her, and it was the youngest who replied. - -“Let us all run away,” Ardan cried, and his face went suddenly red and -his eager eyes shone like stars. - -Naoise glanced at Deirdre from under his brows. - -“Where could we run to from the king?” Ainnle grumbled impatiently. - -“And we do not come of a race that run away,” said Naoise. - -Silence fell. But the statement of his own quality had unlocked a door -of bitterness in Naoise’s heart. - -“Nor will you easily find the girl who will run away from a kingdom,” -he continued as though addressing reasonable counsel to his juniors. - -Deirdre faced him gravely and lovingly. - -“I will run away with you,” she said. - -“The king----!” Naoise gasped. - -“I am afraid of that king,” she whispered urgently. - -But her lover was pale and terrified. - -It would be an affront that was never offered to a king in Eirè. It -would be a cruelty: it would be an awful deed. - -He turned to his brothers. “The king is our uncle, he loves us,” he -said. - -“Yes,” Ainnle agreed, “he loves us better than his own sons.” - -“After Cúchulinn,” said Ardan, “he loves us best in the world.” - -“And he loves me,” said Deirdre. - -Naoise leaped to his feet. - -“O gods of day and night!” he cried. - -He seemed to plead to Deirdre for comprehension and pity. - -“Conachúr reared me like his own son: I sat in his lap: he buckled this -sword on me with his own hand, he put his two palms on my shoulders -when I won my weapons, and he kissed me three times on each cheek. I -love and venerate him.” - -Again silence throbbed among them. - -“I shall go home to Lavarcham,” said Deirdre. - -The boys looked at her and at each other and at the ground and did not -know where to look any more. - -“I also shall be reared by the son of Ness,” she said gently. “I too -shall sit in his lap. He will not buckle a sword on me, but he will -unbuckle my girdle with his own hands; he will put his two palms on my -shoulders, and he will kiss me many times on each cheek.” - -Naoise beat a fist against his brow. - -“I am the king’s man,” he stammered. - -But she turned her fleet smile and trembling lips on him. - -“Am I to tell the king how well we loved each other, night after night -among the trees? or would it be better to keep that as a secret among -us four: they say that men can keep secrets.” - -The two lads blushed painfully and turned away. - -Naoise was as one who has renounced life. - -“There is nothing to be done,” said his dry lips. And then, shaking his -shoulders, he tossed care from them. - -“We shall be beyond the trees at this hour to-morrow night with the -chariots,” he said. “If the hour passes and you do not come we shall -attack the guards and take you out.” - -He turned to the others. - -“You must come with us, wherever we go, my brothers, for when the king -finds that I am gone he will slay you two for eric.” - -“He wouldn’t kill me,” Ardan boasted, “for I wouldn’t let him.” - -“Nobody but Cúchulinn could kill you,” Ainnle scoffed. - -“You couldn’t, anyway,” the youngest retorted. - -“Little boasting Pillar of Combat!” his brother gibed. “Pooh! -Battle-Torch of the Gael!” - -And in terrified merriment they made the rest of their arrangements. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -Lavarcham left the king’s presence. - -She came away bowed and blind and dizzy, shuffling in any direction -and unaware of why she was walking or where she was going. An hundred -thoughts, battling furiously for precedence, kept her thoughtless; an -hundred pictures, each striving for place and examination, kept her -blind. She was all a din and whirl and swirl, as though the winds that -raged in gust and countercurrent through her brain were blowing her -along. At times she would remember that she did not wish to go where -she was going, and she would spin furiously aside and go as stupidly in -another path; and at times she would discover that she was standing, -still and collected as a stone, a nothing; staring on nothing. Great -sighs broke from her miserable heart; or she was so shattered by dry -sobbings that it seemed her bones must part company with her flesh and -with each other; and again, with her two hands gripped on her mouth -she squeezed back a medley of screams, and listened, as in amazement, -to the thin whinings that forced through the crooked spaces in her -fingers. Again, the cautious woman would peep and peer to see if any -person was nigh to observe her, and before that survey could make its -round she would forget what she was looking for, and think that _they_ -could not be seen from this place, for they have hours’ start, and will -be--where? by this time. - -With what unbelieving anguish that flight had forced itself upon her! -She had gone trotting and ambling and panting about her rooms and -fields, calling-- - -“Deirdre, Deirdre, Deirdre?” - -Searching for her baby in a work-basket or on the flat of a ceiling, -while the servants gibbered and squealed and bubbled and blared at her -and at each other. - -With what an iron dismay the thought of Conachúr came on her, -desolating and unreckoned as the thunderclap which howls on the heels -of its howling brother. - -He must be told. - -And at that she poked up her nose like a moonstruck dog pealing scream -on scream, until the attending hags fled into corners as the mice do -when they are frightened, and screamed with her and at her and at the -roof. - -She went to Conachúr. - -She stood mumbling and staring outside the door and then trotted in, -whispering at him: - -“She’s gone.” - -And Conachúr echoed, in uncomprehending amazement: - -“She’s gone.” - -Lavarcham stared into the king’s face that was carved in the granite of -suspense and astonishment. - -“She’s gone, little Deirdre’s gone,” she yelled, and emptied her thin -fingers on the air as though she emptied them of Deirdre. She clapped -her hands together with a dreadful giggle, and flapped her arms along -her thighs like some ungainly crow that has been set dancing drunk on -mead. - -“When a maid goes a man goes with her,” she croaked. - -She flopped to the door and hopped out of it and popped back. - -“She’s gone,” she cried. “She’s gone; she ran away with a man”; and she -wobbled to the doorway again, nodding and tittering at the king until -she disappeared. - -The servants and guards were listening with their eyes staring, their -mouths open, and their breathing forgotten. - -A whisper, a thrill, a terrible constriction of the heart fled through -the vast palace, and went zigzagging like wildfire about Ulster. And -in the centre of that Conachúr stood, alone; with his fists closed and -his eyes closed; listening to the whispers that were an inch away and -an hundred miles away; that were over him and under him and in him: -listening to the blanching of his face and to the liquifying of his -bones: listening in a rage of curiosity and woe for the more that might -be said and all the more that might be thought: trying, as with one -gripping of the mind, to sense all the bitterness that might be; to -exhaust it in one gulp, and re-awaken as at a million removes from all -that had ever been or could be till Doom. - - - - -BOOK II - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Time flies, scattering on all that had seemed important the ash of -forgetfulness, and so crowding memory into memory that the thing we -recollect has no longer the shape or colour that strode against us once -upon a time. - -For all men but the dreamer time flies. But it may be stationary for -him who can recreate in the night all that he forces to oblivion in the -morning. His woeful yesterdays can be timely at any time, for nothing -that touches him will rust or fade, and he may be seen to wince at a -word which his contemporaries have lost the significance of. - -The seven years that passed had not touched Conachúr. He was still the -masterful king, the unremitting lawgiver. He was still the idol of his -people. What would a banquet in the Red Branch be if the king were -away? But he was never absent, and wherever there was music or frolic -or laughter the Son of Ness was urging it on, and would be eager for -more when the youngest companion was wearied to stupidity. Not time nor -thought could blunt the edge of his bodily or mental energy, so vast -was it, and misfortune beat as unavailingly against him as the wind did -against oaken Emania. - -To be energetic and self-sufficing is to be happy; but while one -desire remains in the heart happiness may not come there. For to -desire is to be incomplete: it is the badge of dependence, the signal -of unhappiness, and to be freed from that is to be freed from every -fetter that can possibly be forged. Man becomes god when he finds his -satisfactions within himself, but his dreams then are other than those -that harried Conachúr as a pack of hounds harry a fox. - -For Ulster might forget, and those who had not been outraged might -forgive, but he would not forget or forgive until he was as dead as -those should be against whom his mind was directed like the point of a -secret spear. - -Deirdre and the sons of Uisneac had fled to Scotland, where they had -kinsmen and acquaintances who had grown up with them in Emain Macha -as fosterages from the Scottish courts, or as lords and captains in -Conachúr’s mercenary armies. They may have met Cúchulinn there, for it -would be about that time that he was under the tuition of the female -warrior and witch, Scatach; and, if so, they should have met his -comrade Ferdiad also, he who was to assail the ford afterwards with -what a hand! and it may have been during their exile that Cúchulinn -fell in love with Scatach’s daughter, and that the child was born who -would receive such a woeful stroke on Báile’s Strand. - -It is one of the wise arrangements of providence that no person can -either eat of the same thing or talk of the same thing for more than -a week; and so, when gossip’s time had passed, Ulster, unless it -might be to some travelling historian, spoke no more of the king’s -misfortune. Such an historian would have learned that Deirdre was tall -and short, and that she was dark and fair and sallow: for every woman -he interviewed would lend her own contours and complexion to such an -heroine, and would, as they reprobated or forgave, endow her with the -moral qualities which they best appreciated--their own. Lavarcham could -tell the truth and so could Conachúr, but they would not be questioned -for some years to come. - -The king had downfaced the whole matter from the start. He went to -the chase that day. He sat at the banquet that night. He visited -his foreign troops the next day, and the day after he inspected the -fortifications at the Pass of the Fews and a length of the Black Pig’s -Dyke on either side. There was the Boy Troop to be reviewed and their -competitions to be scrutinized. There were the unending ceremonies of -the court, the Judgement Seat, and of the embassies from all parts -of his realm and from overseas: there were gifts to be received and -returned: counsels to be given and listened to. There was an eternal -variety of occupations for the king, who, although he might employ a -day of eighteen hours’ work, could have something yet to think of ere -he slept. - -Cúchulinn and Conall Cearnach had been equal kings with him, but they -had (Lavarcham had assisted in that) surrendered their powers to -Conachúr, who was now known and described as Emperor of Ulster. - -What allegiance he gave to the High King of Ireland we do not know, and -it may have been part of his plan to arrive at that dignity himself. -A Connacht prince was then, and for a thousand years afterwards, High -King of Ireland, and although the effort of Connacht and Ulster to -achieve supreme rule may now be forgotten, the effects of those bitter -wars lasted longer than an historian would dare to count. - -So far as Ulster was concerned the king might have been at ease. His -honour was as safe as his kingdom, and as for the other actors in his -drama their condition was so manifestly gentle and their youth so -extreme that no taint of ugliness or treachery could remain in the -tale, or in the mind of the person who heard it. It could, in a while, -have been told of as a regrettable childish misadventure, and one which -not even the king need further remember. - -But the king remembered. - -It was to escape such a memory that he plunged into affairs and -banquets and a whole roystering self-expenditure which would have -devitalized any other man. He prolonged his day until it could not for -very weariness be further extended, and then he went to bed. - -No: he went to Deirdre’s bed where Naoise slept, and over which he -hovered sleepless, though in sleep, and in a torment that poisoned the -very sunlight when he awakened. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Conachúr mac Nessa was preparing a feast. - -Household banquets were common matters at his court, but this was to be -a State banquet, and every person who could be thought of as noble or -notable was invited to the Red Branch. - -As well as an aristocracy of birth there was in every Irish court an -élite of excellence. Those who were foremost in learning, the arts, or -the crafts, had the privilege of visiting the king equally with those -whose merit rose from their fathers’ graves or their skill at arms. A -king was then close to his people, and he was by training and habit a -connoisseur in many things which all could understand. A commonwealth -of taste is the only one which can admit equality--it is democracy. He -could commend with knowledge the man who built a house or the man who -did the carvings in it. He could speak to the maker of his chariots -or the breaker of his horses in terms that apprehended to the last -shading the matter that was being discussed, and, so, to the expert -who cured his bacon or the sturdy master who superintended the brewing -of his beer. All arts were household arts; all crafts were arts; and -the knowledge of these was culture. A gentleman would know of all the -music that was worthy of being played, for a musical person formed part -of every household. He would remember the songs that had outlived time -and could discuss their excellences; and the only art which he need -regard as occult would be poetry itself; for, while all other arts come -by memory and experiment, poetry, which is not an art, comes solely by -grace. - -“Lavarcham,” said Conachúr, “have you heard any talk of the banquet?” - -“Indeed, master, I have heard nothing else.” - -“Will there be any notable absentees?” - -“None but those who are dying of wounds or sickness.” - -“Cúchulinn has stayed at home for some time now?” - -“For a year after marriage one is still newly married,” the -conversation-woman submitted. - -“I fear that boy’s love for me has bounds,” Conachúr pursued. - -“The king has been too kind to him,” cried Lavarcham harshly. - -“The king cannot help himself,” he corrected, “for I love the lad, and -I could no more do him an ill turn that I could do one to myself.” - -“I, too, love him,” said Lavarcham, “but he is more forward than is -proper, even in a prince.” - -“Can you tell me, Lavarcham, why he objected to my sovereign privilege -with his wife?” - -“Pride,” she replied briefly. “He is prouder than ten kings.” - -“It is so, and it is a gentleman’s prerogative to be proud,” he -continued. “But if such objections were allowed government would become -impossible. Do the people still talk of his refusal?” - -“The people know that the king did sleep with Emer.”[9] - -“Yes, they may know that, but do they know that Fergus slept on the -other side of her as a guard?” - -“No,” she replied; “that is known to but five people, and they are all -loyal to the king.” - -“Tell me,” and Conachúr scrutinized her gravely, “do you love Cúchulinn -better than me?” - -“I love you best of all, master,” said Lavarcham. - -“I think you do, my friend, but they say that every woman loves the Cú. - -“As to Fergus”--he muttered and went silent for a moment--“I do not yet -know how much Fergus loves me. I am not sure that a loyal man would -have undertaken a duty against his sovereign such as Fergus accepted -for Cúchulinn.” - -“He did it because he loves both of you, master, and it is surely -better that such an arrangement should be known only between friends.” - -“Possibly,” said Conachúr. “And yet I had passed my word that if my -right was conceded I would not touch the girl. Is a king’s word not -accepted any longer by those Ferguses and Cúchulinns?” he cried -furiously. - -“It was Cúchulinn’s doing,” said she. - -“It may have been Fergus’s,” he retorted, and went moodily silent. “Who -knows what that man thinks of?” - -“Feasts,” said Lavarcham. “He loves food.” - -“I was tempted,” the king gritted, “to try in the night whether he -dared obstruct me, and to see if he dared thrust the sword he went to -bed with into his king--but I had passed my word. If,” he continued -irritably, “the Cú had only asked Conall Cearnach or Cruscrid Menn or -any gentleman of the household to be his surety instead of the man he -did ask, I could have borne it.” - -Lavarcham chuckled respectfully. - -“How did that night pass, master?” she inquired. - -Conachúr gave a great laugh. - -“Fergus and I went to bed, and the girl went to bed between us, and we -all had our clothes on. My bed is small enough for me when I am alone, -but to pack a large girl into it with all her clothes on, and then -to pack an overgrown vast bullock of a man like Fergus into it also, -cannot be done. I made but one resolve that night, that on no account -would I be pushed out of my own bed, and I was not; but every time that -Fergus closed an eye he fell on the floor and the girl woke up and -screamed.” - -Lavarcham let out a shrill titter, and begged the king’s pardon. - -“How did Emer behave?” she asked. - -“She went to sleep,” said Conachúr sourly. “She slept hard and kicked -hard for seven long hours; and this I know, that if she has the round -knee of a woman, which she has, for it was thudded into my back a -thousand times, she has also the sharp elbows of a girl, so that after -a time it seemed to me that there was a bundle of live bodkins in the -bed. I never knew how long a night could be until that night: and we -had even to prolong it out of courtesy to the lady! I shall keep a -painful memory of that sweet girl until I die, and the Cú is welcome to -every royal remittance he can desire on her behalf. But now, about the -banquet. Is everything in order?” - -“Everything, master.” - -“The brewers, the bakers, the cooks, they have their equipment and -instructions?” - -“Your butlers must answer for that, master.” - -“True, but as you went among these people how did they seem? What do -they say about the feast?” - -“They are excited and delighted. All their talk is of the famous people -and the great retinues that are coming, and of how Ulster will show the -Five Kingdoms what a real feast is like.” - -“They are good folk all,” said Conachúr. “They are very good folk. You -have no other news?” - -“There is nothing to report, master, but that everything is well.” - -“You have no tidings from Scotland?” - -“None, master, or little.” - -“Even a little news is news,” said he. “Tell it, however little it be.” - -“They have been chased again,” said Lavarcham in a low voice. -“Everywhere they go they are hunted like foxes. They live under the -weather, crouching like wild creatures in the bracken of a hill-side, -or hiding in rocks and caves by a howling shore.” - -“They were delicately reared,” he murmured. - -“They never knew hardship,” Lavarcham whimpered, “and my babe----” - -“Ah yes, your babe! How old would she be now, that babe of yours?” - -“Close on twenty-three years, master.” - -“And I am forty-seven. She has all her days in front of her still.” - -“What days will they be, and she quaking in a burrow like a hare, or -rising thin-legged from the bog like a yellow bittern?” - -“It is still the King of Scotland who pursues them?” Conachúr queried. - -“Yes; since he set eyes on her seven years ago he has given them no -rest, and he will give none until he has killed the three brothers and -taken the girl for himself. That is the welcome of a king in Scotland. -It is not the welcome the same lord got when he came here in fosterage.” - -“He is still a young man,” said Conachúr. - -“Young or old, it is not the act of a prince.” - -“The acts of a prince need a prince’s criticism,” said the king -severely. - -Lavarcham went silent. - -“Young men go wild at times, and it is their right; but older men can -be of a wildness that no young man can understand,” said the king. - -He twisted sternly on Lavarcham. - -“Love is told of in this way and that, but it is not told of as it -is.... It is savagery in the blood, and pain in the bone, and greed and -despair in the mind. It is to be thirsty in the night and unslaked in -the day. It is to carry memory like a thorn in the heart. It is to drip -one’s blood as one walks. Leave men to the things they know, and do you -meddle with your own female businesses.” - -“Those children,” said Lavarcham stubbornly, “are a woman’s business, -and his own subjects are matter for a king.” - -“They are our kinsmen indeed,” said Conachúr thoughtfully, “and their -troubles shall be looked into. We shall speak of this again after the -banquet.” - -Lavarcham’s eyes were shining: - -“Yes, master,” she crooned. - -“Send in our butlers and all our masters,” said Conachúr. - -[9] Emer = pronounced Ever. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -The king and the guests of honour, mainly members of his family and -their wives, sat on a raised dais overlooking the banqueting hall. - -It was at the heart of the banquet. The food had been eaten, and mead -and ale and wine were circulating. Gentlemen were politely pledging -each other’s ladies, and the ladies were feverishly considering each -other’s costumes and ornaments. - -“Every one,” Emer explained in her clear, sweet voice to Cúchulinn, -“every one who has any hair at all wears it this way.” - -“It is the Connacht fashion,” said Cruscraid the Stammerer. - -“It is Maeve’s fashion,” Emer corrected. - -“There must be three plaits,” she continued; “two twisted round the -head and caught in a brooch, and one hanging down the back. I think it -is a charming fashion.” - -“I think,” Conachúr smiled, “that our ladies might content themselves -with our own good Ulster customs.” - -“There are Ulster customs, indeed,” said Emer, “but there are no -fashions. One must go to Connacht for that.” - -“If it depended on the ladies,” said Laerí, “we might let the grass -grow over the Black Pig’s Dyke.” - -“Shoulder torques are worn smaller in Connacht just now,” Emer -continued, eyeing superciliously the ornaments of a neighbour. “Just -like mine,” she added complacently. - -Cúchulinn laughed boisterously. - -“Just like yours,” he mocked. “Why, you know well, my dove, I took that -torque on the last spoil I made in Connacht.” - -Great good humour descended on Conachúr. - -“Is that where the torque came from, my soul? Your sweet lady must show -it to me more closely. You had a hard fight on that occasion?” - -“I got away from them,” the Cú answered modestly. - -“You got away from them only when you got home,” Bricriu jeered. “It -was good running, my sweet.” - -“They were very persistent,” the Cú admitted laughingly, “but I got -away with my spoil.” - -“You know how the Connacht men explain the fact that you are still -alive?” - -“It will be an unpleasant explanation if it is explained by Bricriu,” -said Emer. - -“I should like to hear it,” said Conachúr. - -“They are telling each other that our Cú was so beautiful they could -not bear to kill him: think of that, Cúcuc.” - -“It is a stupid sentimental reason,” growled Laerí. - -“It is a good, honourable reason,” Emer flashed. “It is not a reason -you will ever give for letting a man escape.” - -“No,” said Bricriu; “Laerí’s excuse when he doesn’t bring his man home -is that he couldn’t catch him.” - -“And that,” Laerí retorted, “would be the Connacht men’s reason for not -getting the Cú, if a Connachtman could tell the truth about anything.” - -“They tell the truth when it is pleasant,” said Emer, “and when it is -not pleasant they tell a lie: they are a polite people, which is more -than we are.” - -“Oh! Oh!” Conachúr laughed. - -“Their lies come from a good heart and a love of happiness, while our -truths come grumph, grumph, grumph like the snarling of a badly trained -dog.” - -“Oh! Oh!” Conachúr roared. - -“Conall, what do you say of these Connacht people? You also have been -among them lately.” - -“They are honourable fighters,” said Conall. - -“No man can pray for a better enemy than a Connachtman,” Fergus -assented. “They come on where another would go back, and when they go -back it is either through pity or poetry.” - -“Come,” said Conachúr, “their compliment to the Cú has been repaid, and -we can talk of something else. What do you think of our banquet?” - -“There is nothing to be said,” cried Emer; “it is perfect.” - -“Everybody seems happy,” said the complacent king, as he looked down -the Red Branch. - -His guests also stared down the hall. - -“They seem happy and are happy,” said Cúchulinn. He turned to his -servant and charioteer: - -“Laeg,” he cried, “you do not love me! My cup is empty.” - -“My darling,” Laeg replied, “you have drunk as much as is good for you.” - -“I shall drink as much as is bad for me if I please,” said Cúchulinn, -“so bring me some mead, my treasure.” - -“I shall bring you ale or cider.” - -“Mead,” said the Cú. - -“Ale, my little love,” said the charioteer. - -“Bring mead for the Cú when he wants it,” Emer ordered indignantly. - -“Sweet mistress,” said Laeg, “we have to bring him home to-night.” - -“Then give him ale,” said Emer. - -“It will surely be ale,” cried the delighted Conachúr. - -“Mead,” Cúchulinn pleaded. - -“You will want to fight the moon and stars as we go home,” Emer rebuked -him. - -“I can fight on ale just as well,” Cúchulinn asserted. - -“And it is good heady ale,” the king assured him. - -“Let it be ale, then,” said Cúchulinn. - -“I think that not one person whom we know is absent from this banquet,” -said Fiachra the Fair, Conachúr’s youngest son. - -The conversation turned as they all looked down the great hall. “There -is So-and-so, and So-and-so.” - -“Who,” said Emer, “is that tall, sad man with three men’s chins about -him?” - -“He is such a one,” said Fiachra. - -“And the black bulk beside him with the beard that was stolen from a -porcupine?” - -“His name is Borach, the son of Annté. He has a fortified rock half in -and half out of the sea. He catches sharks through his window, and his -banquets are all made of fish.” - -“He is preparing a banquet for me,” Conachúr cried. - -“I shall not accept a feast from that man,” said Fergus. - -“You must if he asks you,” Cúchulinn replied, “for it is geasa[10] on -you not to refuse a feast.” - -“That is so; but the feast must be ready before I am offered it, and -as I do not visit his part of the world I shall never have to eat his -sharks.” - -“You think there is no one absent?” asked Conachúr. - -“Not one,” they agreed. - -“I am sharper than you all,” he continued, “for I can count three who -are not here.” - -Again they scrutinized the hall without finding any missing friends. -They appealed to the herald who stood by Conachúr’s chair. He, too, was -mystified. - -“What three are they?” said Fiachra. - -“The three sons of Uisneac,” the king replied smilingly. “The three -Lights of Valour of the Gael.” - -At the words a moment’s silence came on the dais and no person knew -exactly what to say or do. Fergus turned his direct gaze on the king. - -“They are in Scotland,” he said. - -“They went there seven years ago when Naoise ran away with Deirdre,” -said Conachúr. - -Conall Cearnach turned his harsh forehead to the king: - -“They are in great distress,” he said. - -“I have just heard so,” the king replied gravely. “We must bring them -home.” - -At the words the face of every person changed. It was as though a -cordial had been dropped into each heart. - -Cúchulinn flashed enthusiasm and delight at the king: - -“You will let them come back?” - -“They shall be at our next banquet.” - -“If I could love you more,” Fergus affirmed, “I would love you more for -that.” - -“I know you love me well,” said Conachúr, “and I love you, my heart.” - -“We have been wearying to see Naoise again,” cried Cúchulinn. - -“What is he like?” said Emer. - -“He is under geasa about his return,” Bricriu interposed. - -Conachúr turned abruptly to him. - -“What geasa is that?” - -“He will come back in the company of Fergus or of Conall or of the Cú, -otherwise he will not come back.” - -“Ah!” said Conachúr. - -“He was always a sensible, far-seeing boy,” Bricriu continued -thoughtfully. - -The king’s eye rested on Bricriu for one weighty moment ere he replied: - -“We shall send one of the three, or all of the three to fetch him.” - -“What is she like?” Emer insisted. - -Bricriu replied: - -“She has been sleeping in ditches for six years. She will be like -nothing that you have ever heard of, sweet lady.” - -“She----” said Cúchulinn. - -“She----” said every voice at the one moment. - -“She,” said Conachúr with a grave smile, “was called the Troubler; she -has given and received her share of trouble.” - -[10] Geasa = taboo. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -“You understand?” said the king. - -“I understand well, master,” said Lavarcham. - -“First you are to send Conall to me. Half an hour afterwards you shall -send Cúchulinn. In another half-hour you shall send me Fergus, and when -he comes you shall see that Borach is in waiting.” - -“I understand well, master.” - -“In a little while you shall see your babe again.” - -She scrutinized his face humbly and gravely. - -“You are most gentle, master.” - -“Are you not contented?” - -“I am filled with joy and grief,” she answered. - -“And grief!” the king echoed mildly. - -“She will not be the girl I knew,” said Lavarcham. - -“How so?” - -“She will have been destroyed by hardship.” - -“Girls are tougher than women pretend,” said Conachúr. - -“A man grows directly from the boy he was,” she continued. “He keeps -the boy you knew even when he is an old man. But a girl grows suddenly -at an angle to all that she was. She becomes a stranger in a year.” - -“Hum!” he scoffed. - -“The Deirdre we knew is dead, and some weather-wise, weather-wasted -woman will look at me with unknown eyes and say, ‘How do you do.’ I -shall not know how to talk to her,” said Lavarcham. - -“If it is so we shall see it so,” said Conachúr. “Go now and send me -Conall, and then the others in the order I told you.” - -Lavarcham left the room. - -When she was beyond the king’s hearing she stood for a good five -minutes musing deeply within herself; listening as it were to her -heart, to her instincts, to that monitor on whom we call when the times -are momentous and doubtful and there is no other help but our own to -be summoned. She sighed inaudibly, tremulously, and went about her -business. - - * * * * * - -Conall Cearnach stood in the doorway. - -“Good, O Chief and King!” he saluted. - -“Life and happiness!” Conachúr replied briskly. “Sit here, my heart, -for there is but one chair. I shall walk up and down while we discuss -this business.” - -His guest sat down. - -“It is about Uisneac’s boys. You think they should come home?” - -“Every one thinks so; there is a gap among your gentlemen while they -are away.” - -Conachúr nodded. - -“There is an even worse gap among your captains.” - -“It is so.” - -“And among the boys growing from the troop,” Conall resumed, “there -is no one to replace these three. They were already at the force of -manhood, and even then their skill and knowledge were remarkable.” - -“True,” Conachúr agreed. “They were trained by me.” - -“The last six years of combat and ambuscade and flight will have made -them but the better soldiers.” - -The king strode to his visitor and laid a hand on his shoulder. - -“Conall, my friend, these three have treated me shamefully.” - -“The only way to forgive a thing is to forget it. You have forgiven, -Conachúr--and forgotten.” - -“If they returned with you, Conall, and if evil happened to them while -under your surety, what would you do?” - -Conall rose from his chair, and in rising displaced the king’s hand. He -looked at the king with his steady, pale regard. - -“If evil came to a person placed under my protection I would kill the -person by whom that evil came.” - -Conachúr laughed merrily. - -“Even the king himself?” he quizzed. - -“I would kill any person that dishonoured me,” said Conall sternly. - -“You would be quite right to do so,” said Conachúr heartily. - -He seated himself in the chair that Conall had vacated. - -“The matter I wish to discuss is your uncle, Cet mac Magach, Cet of -Connacht. That man scorns our borders, and his depredations are costly -and impertinent. Our young men also are not equal to that able reiver. -Could you not talk to him, Conall, and draw him off us?” - -“I talk to Connachtmen with a sword.” - -“You may talk to him that way if you please.” - -Conall reviewed the invitation imperturbably. - -“I would not care to kill Cet mac Magach. He is my mother’s brother.” - -“And he is not an easy person to kill,” said Conachúr. “We shall make -our own arrangements about him. Blessing and long life to you!” - -The dismissed champion strode from the room. - -“That man,” Conachúr thought moodily, “has been hammered together stone -by stone, and is no more than a petrified vanity. He loves nothing but -his honour, which is that he loves himself.” - -“Come in, the Cú,” he called. “Come in, and an hundred welcomes, my -sweet lad.” - -Cúchulinn, magnificent in red silk and gold embroideries, came leaping -in. - -“Well, my pulse!” cried Conachúr. “And you have a new mantle!” - -“Emer made it,” the Cú boasted. “She does the finest embroidery in the -world. She told me so herself.” - -“If she told you so----” said Conachúr. “Let me look at the sleeve. It -is not bad, my delight. But I have a few pieces somewhere--Did you pass -Conall Cearnach as you came in?” - -“I did; he smiled a frozen smile at me, and clapped my shoulder with a -fist of lead.” - -“We were arguing about honour. If a person was placed under your -protection and was then killed, what would you do, Cúcuceen?” - -“I would kill the other person,” said Cúchulinn. - -“If it was the king, my pet?” - -“I would kill the king.” - -Conachúr sat round at him in a rage. - -“Would you kill me?” he demanded. - -“I would,” Cúchulinn returned as fiercely. “I would kill any one who -destroyed a person under my protection.” - -“You would _not_ kill me, Cúchulinn!” - -“As sure as dawn begins the day.” - -“Begone, young puppy! Begone, cockscomb!” he thundered. - -“Honour----” Cúchulinn commenced. - -“You do not love me,” the king stormed. - -“I do love you.” - -“Begone,” the king roared, and stamped the floor. - -The laughing Cúchulinn backed before his rage. - -“I do love you,” he shouted; and he continued to shout, “I love you.... -I love you,” until he reached the end of the corridor and turned the -corner, where the guards poked each other in the ribs and giggled with -joy. - -Conachúr tugged at his beard half in anger and half in laughter. - -Another vanity in a mantle, he thought. That boy loves me indeed, and -he would as surely kill me, for it is certain that I could not think of -killing him. Is there no person in my realm who loves me better than -his own poor pride? And what a three that--Naoise--must choose for his -sureties! - -He strode savagely up and down the room. - -“We shall see now what Fergus is like,” he sneered. “He professes to -adore me, and eyes me with the devotion of a dull dog. A dull dog he -is, and a monster of sufficiency to boot.” - -If he dares to thwart me--the king gloomed, and went into a bitter rage -of meditation. - -A great voice boomed on him. - -“Good my soul, Conachúr!” - -“It is Fergus,” cried the king joyfully, and strode to meet his visitor. - -“Come, my pulse and best. Sit you and I shall stand. Nay, sit,” he -chided gently. “Indeed, if things were right you should sit always, and -this man,” tapping his own breast, “should bend a lover’s knee before -you. You bear no ill-will, sweetheart, for that trick of long ago?” - -The giant sat. - -“I never think of it, or I think of it with relief when I remember the -Judgement Seat, and the knots and tangles and questions that came day -by day. I was not bad at justice, but I was a sad fumbler at law, and -the best man has the best place, my dear. Do not torment yourself with -memories of that old----” - -He halted for a word. - -“Treachery,” said Conachúr. - -“That is not the word I wanted,” Fergus laughed. “You are too -sensitive, Conachúr. The nobles agreed and I agreed that you should be -the king, and I am your most loving subject.” - -“You do love me?” - -“Have I not proved it?” the other smiled. - -“Many a time. Times out of mind,” said Conachúr. - -He turned aside and closed his eyes. A pang of dull hate smouldered and -stirred in him. - -“If this man were dead!” he thought with weary despair. “If this man -would but cease and disappear and begone, how free my soul could be!” - -He turned again to Fergus. - -“Let us talk of other things,” he said. “Those sons of Uisneac----” - -“You did a rare deed there,” said the other approvingly. - -“Rare or not rare they will be brought back, and you shall go for them.” - -Fergus nodded. - -“If they claim my protection----” he began. - -“They do claim it, and they will return under your protection.” - -“Then I shall go for them. I shall be glad to see these boys again: -they had the makings of great fighters in them.” - -“That is settled,” said Conachúr. “You can start to-day?” he inquired. - -“I can start within the hour.” - -“Good.” - -Conachúr mused, and turned thoughtful eyes on his companion. - -“If anything happened to these three while they were under your -protection, Fergus, what would you do?” - -“I would kill the person who interfered with my protection.” - -“No matter who it was?” - -“No matter who it was.” - -“I wonder would our mutual love withstand even an attack on honour,” -said Conachúr thoughtfully. “There are bounds to love, but I doubt that -I could lift a hand against you even if you attacked my honour.” - -“Our love is a great bond,” said Fergus simply; “it would be hard to -destroy.” - -“Nevertheless,” the king smiled, “if I injured your honour--say that I -attacked these sons of Uisneac while in your surety, your affection for -me would scarcely withstand that.” - -“That would be a hard case indeed,” Fergus laughed. - -“You would kill me?” the king queried with a genial smile. - -“You know,” said Fergus, “that I could not kill you whatever you did.” - -“We love one another well,” said Conachúr. “It is a great thing to love -as we do, my friend. - -“But now,” he continued briskly, “we must attend to this troublesome -business, and we must have a third person present in order that the -world may know how we despatch it.” - -He clapped his hands, and, to the servant who appeared: - -“Who is in waiting?” - -“Borach, lord.” - -“Tell him to come here.” - -“That is the man who feeds his guests on sharks,” said Fergus. - -“He is on duty of honour to-day,” the king replied carelessly, “and -he will be witness to the world of my instructions and of your charge. -Come forward, good Borach.” - -The bulky man strode in. - -“You shall listen to my instructions to our dear Fergus, and you shall -be the witness to this arrangement.” - -Fergus thereupon stood up and Conachúr seated himself. - -“Fergus, my friend, you shall go to Scotland and bring back to this -court the three sons of Uisneac and the woman Deirdre. There shall be -no delay about the execution of this duty.” - -“There shall be no delay,” Fergus affirmed. - -“The instant they set foot in Ireland you shall proceed here with them; -and if, from any cause whatsoever, you cannot come yourself, you shall -cause them to come to me without the delay of even one half-hour.” - -“That will be done,” said Fergus, “but I shall be with them.” - -“With you or without you, whether they arrive by day or by night in -Ireland, they shall be sent here to me without the delay of even one -half-hour.” - -“That will be done,” said Fergus. - -“I bind that on you to the letter,” said Conachúr. - -“I accept it so,” Fergus returned. “I shall bring my two sons to -Scotland, and if, by any miracle, I should be delayed myself, they -shall go forward with every speed and deliver these four people safely -at Emain Macha.” - -“A speedy return to you,” said Conachúr. “Go at once, my dear friend. -But you, Borach, stay yet awhile. I have the matter of our feast to -discuss with you.” - -Fergus smiled broadly as he withdrew. - -“Sharks,” he murmured quite joyfully. “Sharks!” - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -On the slope of a sunny hill overlooking Loch Eitche, Deirdre was -cooking the meal which her husband and his brothers had run to earth -and carried home on their shoulders. - -“The food is ready,” she called. - -“It is not as ready as I am, for I could eat land and water,” Ardan -averred. - -“We shall not give you any,” she mocked. - -“Serve the greedy person right,” said Ainnle. “He eats in his sleep.” - -“But I must get the part I killed,” Ardan protested. - -“What part is that?” - -“I don’t know its name, but it is the tenderest part.” - -“This is also a thievish person,” said Ainnle indignantly; “he is -trying to claim the part I killed.” - -“Fight for me, Naoise!” Ardan implored. “Be on my side, Deirdreen!” - -“You shall be served last,” said Deirdre severely, “and you shall get a -tough piece.” - -“Ochone! ochone for ever!” he lamented. - -“How do you like that piece?” said Deirdre vindictively. - -“I could eat a cow’s horn if you cooked it,” he wheedled. “Won’t you -give me more in a minute, little sister?” - -“I shall give you ten kisses,” said Deirdre. - -“Do not go between that man and his meat,” Ainnle warned; “he will bite -you.” - -“The law says that you are my brother, but I shall certainly divorce -you,” the other cried, “and then you will be sorry.” - -“You are silent, Naoise!” said Deirdre. - -“No man can talk with his mouth full except me,” Ardan explained. - -“Half an hour ago,” said Naoise, “I saw a ship beating in from the sea.” - -“A fishing-boat?” - -“I think it was a boat from Ireland.” - -“Why should you think so?” - -“It had the cut of an Irish boat.” - -“If it is any of our friends from Ireland,” said Ainnle, “they will be -almost at the strand now.” - -“We have no friends in Ireland,” Deirdre returned coldly. - -“Run to the strand, Ardan my pulse, and see who came in that ship.” - -The boy scrambled to his feet. - -“If they are friends I’ll give them kisses. If they are enemies I’ll -steal their supper.” - -But Deirdre was woebegone as she looked on the two brothers. - -“What ails you, little sister?” Ainnle inquired. - -“I had a dream last night,” she replied, “and it troubles me.” - -“We share all things, and our troubles. Tell us your dream.” - -Deirdre looked away distantly to the sea. - -“I dreamed that three birds came flying from Emain Macha.” - -“Happy birds,” said Naoise dreamily, “that can fly, and fly back.” - -“They had each a sip of honey in their beaks. They left the three sips -of honey with us, and they took away from us three sips of our blood.” - -“The ending,” said Naoise, “is not so sweet as the beginning.” - -“How do you interpret that dream?” his brother asked. - -“I think that three people will come to us carrying a sweet, deceitful -message from Conachúr.” - -“A dream is a dream,” he soothed her. - -“And my dreams!” she cried. “How many times have we fled on the advice -of my dream? and as we looked back we saw that happening which we fled -from. Is that true, brother?” - -“It is true. Our Deirdre has second sight.” - -Naoise turned his shoulder along the grass, and laid his ear to the -wind. - -“I hear a shout,” he said. - -“It is some man of these parts giving a hunting call,” she answered. - -“It seemed to me like the shout of an Irishman.” - -“It may be Ardan returning.” - -“It is not his call.” - -“It is Fergus and his two sons,” said Deirdre miserably. “They are -coming to us with three sips of honey in their mouths.” - -“What is in Fergus’ mouth is in his heart also,” Naoise cried joyfully. -“One time or another even your dream may be wrong, for if Fergus agrees -to be a messenger the message will be as true as his own truth.” - -“Remember,” said Deirdre, “that I told you they were coming without -having seen them.” - -Fergus and his two sons, with Ardan doing circles and whoops around -them, rose on a slope of the hill, and came striding over the tussocks. -Behind them came the shield-bearer and the shield itself, and at the -sight Ainnle fled to meet them, but Naoise drew back to keep Deirdre -company, for she had not moved. - -“It is Fergus,” he said, with shining eyes. - -“He has come for our blood,” said white-lipped Deirdre. - -“Queen of queens,” her husband laughed, “you do not know Fergus.” - -At that the whole band came together, and they all kissed each other -fondly. - -“Welcome to this land,” said Naoise. - -“And thou art Deirdre!” cried Fergus, as he kissed her on either cheek. - -She smiled wanly as she returned his kisses. - -“We shall teach you to laugh in Ireland,” he trolled. - -“What news is there from the lovely country?” her husband demanded. - -“The best. The news that you are to return there.” - -“Ah!” said Naoise. - -“The king himself has sent me to bring you home under my surety and -protection.” - -“Whoo-oop!” said Ardan. - -“He bids me tell you that he has forgiven you, and wishes you all -happiness.” - -But Deirdre turned to him, smiling and fearful. - -“We are happy here in Scotland,” she said. - -“Nay,” said Fergus, “one cannot be satisfied when one is in exile, for -his native land is dearer to a man than any other.” - -“This is truly a dear country,” she replied. - -“And it is well known,” Fergus continued, “that if a man of Ireland had -the lordship of another country he would yet be unhappy unless he could -see Ireland every day.” - -“It is so,” said Ainnle. - -“There is no one knows its truth better than the sons of Uisneac,” -cried Naoise. - -“You see,” the great man chided her. - -“I know that this is a dear land,” said Deirdre stubbornly, “and that -here the sons of Uisneac might rise to any destiny they aimed for.” - -“It may be so,” Naoise affirmed. “But Ireland is dearer to me than -Scotland.” - -“Scotland is safer,” she said. - -“Will you be safer in Scotland than with me?” cried Fergus in -amazement. “I have yet a little power,” he smiled. - -“We will go with you,” said Naoise. - -“Do not go, my pulse,” said Deirdre in great agitation. “Do not trust -yourself where Conachúr is.” - -“Women and cats dislike change,” Naoise laughed, “but you will love -this change.” - -In half an hour they strode down the hill, and in an hour their sails -were bent for Ireland. - -It was then Deirdre made her first poem, beginning - - A lovable land is that in the east, - Marvellous Alba.... - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -As they approached harbour they noticed a band waiting at the -landing-place, and these people raised mighty cheers as the ship swung. - -“That man!” said Fergus, indicating one who stood apart and issued -commands. “I surely know that man! It is Borach,” he laughed. “It is -the man who feeds people on sharks,” and he explained to his party all -that he had heard of Borach at the banquet. - -“The gods be praised,” he murmured, “we cannot wait for his feast even -if he offers it.” - -When they landed Borach ran to meet them. He kissed Fergus three times, -and he kissed each of the others also. - -“Welcome to this land,” he said; “all Ireland welcomes you.” - -He looked with his black, deep-set peep at Deirdre and kissed her, but -when she looked at him he turned aside. - -He was ill at ease, and all his movements were self-conscious and -unhappy. He turned, almost truculently, to Fergus. - -“Fergus,” he said, “I am honoured to see you in my lordship.” - -“You are kind,” said Fergus, “and I shall bind you to visit me in mine.” - -“I am so delighted,” Borach continued hastily, “that I have prepared a -feast for you, such as is only offered to a king.” - -“The king did say,” Fergus rumbled joyfully, “that you had a feast -ready for him.” - -“That is the feast I am offering to you,” said Borach. - -“What?” cried the giant. - -“The king has notified me that he cannot come to my banquet, so I am -offering it to you instead.” - -Fergus stared at him. - -“You were present, and you heard Conachúr’s instructions that there -should be no delay on this journey. I shall come and feast with you -another time, my dear.” - -“I insist that you stay and feast with me for one week,” Borach growled. - -“You insist!” he murmured in astonishment. - -“I invoke your geasa,” said the other stubbornly. “You must remain with -me for a week.” - -At that Fergus became one purple mass from the crown of his head to the -soles of his feet, and his face swelled so that the bystanders feared -he would burst with the excess and violence of his rage. Borach was -nervous, but his own men were around him, and although he was terrified -of Fergus he was yet more frightened of the king. - -“I insist,” he shouted, “and you cannot refuse a feast that is offered -to you kindly.” - -“This is a trick,” said Fergus. “You know my oath; you listened to it, -for the king made me swear in your very presence, that, was it by day -or by night, I should speed the sons of Uisneac to him from the moment -we landed. And you offer me a feast and a week’s delay! What dog’s deed -do you intend, you Borach? Do you not value your life?” he roared. - -“I value my life indeed,” Borach replied, “and”--looking round on his -attendants--“and I shall take great care of it. I hold you to the -feast, Fergus.” - -“Come apart with me,” said the bewildered giant to his companions, “and -let us discuss this wonder.” - -“What ought we to do?” he asked. - -“It seems that you must make a choice,” said Deirdre timidly. - -“What choice is there, sweet queen?” - -“You have to choose whether you will forsake the feast or forsake us,” -she murmured. - -Her heart swelled as she spoke, so that her voice was not steady, for -she was astonished and unhappy and her mind was bewildered. - -“In truth I must leave one or the other,” said Fergus. - -Naoise and his brothers stared at the fogged noble. - -“Dear champion,” she pleaded, “it would be more fitting to leave the -feast, but it would not be right to leave us in the middle of our -enemies.” - -“But I cannot leave a feast,” Fergus explained, “for that is my -compact with the gods. One cannot break his geasa.” - -They stared at him and at one another in consternation. - -“Whatever is in his mind, this Borach will not release me from the -eating of his accursed sharks,” Fergus continued wrathfully. “Eat them -I must, but I shall leave my sons with you, and they will protect you -on the road to Emain.” - -“By my hand,” said Naoise, “you are doing a great deal for us! The -protection we seek is that of your name and fame and station. Any other -protection we do not value, for we are well used to taking care of -ourselves.” - -“But----” said Fergus. - -“We did not come here under your weapons,” said Naoise, “we came under -your guarantee.” - -“You mistake me,” said Fergus mildly. “My sons carry my guarantee, and -with them you will be as secure as though I were present.” - -He turned to Rough-Red Buinne and Iollann the Fair. - -“Is not that so?” - -“It is so,” said Buinne. - -“The Council of All Ireland would not tolerate the breaking of this -notable surety,” said Iollann. “It is known now through the whole -country.” - -“And what man would dare to break my guarantee?” Fergus inquired. - -Naoise bit his lip. - -“Let us go on,” said he. - -He turned his level gaze on Fergus’ sons. - -“You are our guarantors,” he said, “and we accept your protection.” - -They returned to where the black-avised chieftain was waiting, and -him Fergus stared and out-stared until he was reduced to a mass of -unhappiness. - -“I shall eat sharks because I must, Borach,” he thundered. - -“What sharks are you talking about?” said Borach. - -“Lead me to your miseries of the deep,” said Fergus, “but do not talk -to me about them.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -As the travellers proceeded they were morose and thoughtful, and even -Ardan’s high spirits flagged. But as they looked on a native sky, and -on the fields and hedgerows of an Irish countryside, something of their -disquietude was eased and a lightening of the heart became apparent in -each of them. - -“Dear girl,” said Naoise, and he placed an arm about her shoulders. “We -are in Ireland,” he said. - -At the word every misery fled from Ardan’s breast, so that he began -to look truculently on his brother Ainnle, and even to give him an -occasional shoulder as they marched. - -Deirdre leaned to her husband. - -“I have had other visions,” she said. - -She moved her hand languidly towards Fergus’ two sons, who strode a few -paces in advance. - -“These are our sureties!” she mocked. - -“They represent their father,” Naoise affirmed. - -“They represent nothing but themselves,” she answered, “and if their -father leaves us for a feast, they will leave us for any other prank.” - -“It was his geasa,” said Naoise patiently. - -“Whatever it was,” said Deirdre. - -“We are utterly alone,” she continued. “We have no backing of any kind, -and we will arrive in Emain Macha at the absolute mercy of Conachúr.” - -She seized her husband’s arm. - -“You also are under geasa not to return unless in the company of -Fergus. He may be delayed for a week. Let us camp here and wait until -he comes up with us.” - -“Dear child,” said Naoise, “how can we insult these good youths?” - -But Deirdre was in terrible agitation. - -“I dread appearing in the presence of Conachúr if Fergus is not by us.” - -“His guarantee is with us,” and Naoise indicated the two young men. -“There it is, four legs of it marching stoutly.” - -“At least,” she pleaded, “let us go to Cúchulinn’s fortress in Dun -Dealgan and wait there until he or Fergus can come with us--if you will -do that, I shall complain no more.” - -“Fergus,” he replied, “has bound himself before the king that he would -send us on without an hour’s delay.” - -“And he bound himself to stay with us, but he has broken his word.” - -“We must keep his word for him with the king,” said Naoise. - -“Another person’s honour is another person’s business. That compact is -broken by him, and your geasa is not kept by keeping his. Let us turn -to Dun Dealgan and take Cúchulinn’s protection.” - -Naoise indicated the two who were marching in front. - -“I shall ask their advice, and if they agree to it we will go to Dun -Dealgan.” - -He called the two, and put the question to them. But they were -scandalized. - -“You have no confidence in us,” said Buinne. - -“And none in our father’s word,” said Iollann. - -“This woe has come on us because of your father’s word, and he has left -us in our danger for a feast,” she raged. - -“The whole world,” said Buinne, “knows Fergus mac Roy, and the worth of -his protection.--You know it,” he said to Naoise, “although your queen -does not.” - -“You are right,” said Naoise. “We may go on without misgiving, my dove.” - -And they went on. - -On their journey the next day they reached Slieve Fuad. Deirdre strayed -behind, and in the movement and conversation her absence was not -noticed for a long time. Naoise retraced his path from the White Cairn -of the Watching, and came on her sleeping in a grassy hollow. When he -awakened her she stared and clutched him, and cried wildly and bitterly. - -“What is it?” he asked in alarm. - -“I have had a vision,” she sobbed. “I have had a dreadful vision.” - -“What did you see?” - -“I saw Iollann with no head on him, and I saw Buinne with his head -safe on his shoulders.” - -Naoise took her in his arms. - -“Be glad,” he laughed, “that one of our friends will escape the doom -you have planned for us all.” - -But she stared at him in distraction. - -“No friend of ours will escape,” she moaned. - -“But Buinne kept his head on in your dream!” - -“The man who had no head had been fighting for us, and the man who had -a head was fighting against us,” she whispered. - -Naoise was shocked. - -“How you have changed, my one treasure,” he said mournfully. - -She threw her arms about him. - -“Do not speak unkindly to me,” she begged. - -“That lovely mouth spoke always lovely things, and now it speaks -nothing but evil.” - -She closed his lips with her hand. - -“No, no,” she said. “Do not say more. Or say only that you love me. You -do love me, my husband?” - -“Little tender wife!” he smiled. “After all the dangers we have gone -through you are frightened at last.” - -“Yes,” she breathed, “I am terribly frightened. I die of fear for us -all. When I remember Conachúr.... He looked so at me, Naoise! He----! -Come with me to Scotland. We will be safe there. We will be happy -again. We will hunt in the Woods of Cuan and Glen da Rua. I shall never -complain again in this life if you will come with me to Scotland. -Let us go away. You and I, and our darlings, Ainnle and Ardan. He is -so young to be killed, our brother Ardan. He is but twenty-one years -old, and he is gay and loving and fearless. We will be together again; -we four: alone and happy. Listen! we will hunt and feast and defend -ourselves and fear nothing. You shall win a kingdom there: in sweet -Alba of the heathery uplands; but let us fly from Conachúr. You do -not know him. Only I and Lavarcham know that terrible king. He is -thoughtful. He is bitter and unforgiving, and his memories are rooted -deep like the roots of a deep tree.” - -But Naoise put her hands away. - -“If you must speak badly of others,” he said coldly, “speak to me of -foreigners, and not of my own people!” - -“Alas, my husband!” said Deirdre. “Alas and alas for all of us!” - -She rose wearily. - -“Do not be angry with me. Let that last unhappiness be spared me. I am -your wife, Naoise. I would prefer that evil should happen to all the -world rather than one small misfortune should come to you. I am not -Deirdre any more. I am Misery.” - -But he kissed and petted her, putting back the hair from her brow and -framing her face in his hands. - -“We are here now,” he said, “and no matter what awaits us we must go to -meet it. You would not wish me to run away, Deirdreen.” - -“We ran away before,” she said, “and we have greater reason to run away -now than we had then. The spider is waiting for us in the web.” - -“You forget, and you will keep on forgetting it, that we are under the -protection of Fergus, and through him we are under the protection of -all Ireland.” - -But she looked at him almost angrily. - -“Fergus,” she scoffed. “He is a traitor, that Fergus. He is being used -by the king to betray us.” - -Naoise bit his lip and his eyes became hard and sombre. - -“Let us go on,” he said. “We should reach Ard Saileach ere the -evening.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -They stood on the slope of a hill in a rounded and rolling country -looking down on Emain Macha. The evening was advanced, and the late -sunlight, all a glimmer of gold, was shining tenderly on the city, so -that the mighty ten-acre palace of Conachúr shone back again as though -it also were a sun. The great bronze doors, polished like mirrors, were -blazing in red lakes of flame, the glass windows of the women’s sunny -rooms were like blinding pools of gold, and the roofs, painted in broad -reaches of red and green and orange, glowed and sparkled in the mellow -evening. - -“It is good to look on that again,” said Naoise in a low voice. - -“I had almost forgotten it,” said Ainnle. - -But Ardan squatted in the grass and stared and stared with his soul in -his eyes. - -“You have not seen the city for seven years!” said Buinne. - -Naoise drew Deirdre to him. - -“Are you not contented now, my heart?” - -“Our wanderings are ended,” he continued tenderly. “We are outlaws no -more, and that long vagabondage is done with. You will sleep at last in -a bed,” he smiled. - -“Oh, my dear!” she breathed. - -“We are home again,” he said, and his heart filled suddenly so that he -could not tell if it were really joy that stayed his tongue and blinded -his eyes, or if the grief of seven long years had risen within him like -a wintry tide. - -But Deirdre was not happy. She saw Ainnle’s contained joy, and the -ecstasy in Ardan’s eyes. - -“Alas, my darlings!” she said. - -“You still think,” said Naoise, “that the king of such a land can act -towards us like a traitor?” - -“I shall give you a sign,” she replied mournfully and gently. “If -Conachúr lodges us this night in his own house we are safe.” - -“He has sent for us of his own royal will,” said Ainnle, “and he will -lodge us, as is proper, in the Royal Branch.” - -“Poor trusting gentlemen!” said Deirdre. “Conachúr could not live again -in the house where you three had lodged. He will send us to the Red -Branch.” - -“And if he does?” said Naoise. - -“I,” Ardan cried, “am going to put a new edge on my sword if he does. -There is a good edge on it already,” he explained, “but I am going to -put edges all over it.” - -“If we are sent to the Red Branch,” said Ainnle, “I shall let you give -my blade a rub too.” - -“I call on Iollann and Buinne for protection,” Ardan cried indignantly. -“That man makes me work for him like a horse,” he complained. - -Naoise turned to the two sons of Fergus. - -“If we are sent to the Red Branch what will you do?” - -“We will go there with you,” said Buinne. - -“The king’s house is always filled with guests,” Iollann said. “He -cannot know just when we should arrive, and he may have no place for us -at a moment’s notice.” - -“There is nothing Conachúr does not know,” said Deirdre. “Borach will -have sent a runner to tell of our arrival, and his own spies will have -told the king in what place we camped each night, and at what hour we -marched again in the morning. He knows now that we are here, and if he -sends us to the Red Branch we are lost.” - -“I am as full of curiosity as an old woman,” Naoise laughed. “Let us go -on and find out everything that is going to happen.” - -In a short time they were among the streets and booths around Emain -Macha, but the twilight had descended and the passers-by did not -recognize the six travellers. - -“Yonder is the Speckled Branch, the Armoury,” said Ainnle. “The Boy -Troop will be going to bed shortly. You remember those nights, Naoise, -and all the chattering?” - -“And the climbing out of windows by a cord,” said Ardan. “And the -scrambling back again while the comrades above threw all the world at -the guards who were trying to stick spears in us as we shinned up.” - -“There is the Red Branch,” said Naoise. - -“Is it truly full of dead men’s heads?” Deirdre chattered through -frozen lips. - -“There is generally a head or two,” he answered carelessly, -“Connachtmen mostly.” - -“Very hairy, beardy, toothy kinds of heads,” said Ardan. “I remember -them, and they used to get hairier and beardier and toothier every -second day. At last,” he explained to Deirdre, “there wouldn’t be any -head at all, no face at all, only a mat of hair as long as a woman’s, -and it in knots, and a shiny grin among the knots.” - -“You are all wrong,” said Ainnle. “A dead man’s hair grows lank and -long like a drink of water.” - -“Pooh!” said Ardan. “You remember everything! You are the great man of -the world! The wind knots them and twists them and wobbles them all in -and out like a doormat.” - -“Yonder is Conachúr’s house, the Royal Branch,” said Naoise. - -“We will give a good thundering knock at the door and make them jump,” -said Ainnle gleefully. - -“I’ll give it a kick,” said Ardan. - -Naoise did give a thundering knock. - -The door opened and a guard appeared. - -“Who asks admission at this hour?” he demanded. - -“The sons of Uisneac.” - -The guard stared. - -“Come in, nobles, and sit for a moment while I seek instructions.” - -“Let a message be sent to the king,” said Buinne, “that the protection -of Fergus mac Roy and those he protects have arrived as he ordered.” - -The chamberlain came, Scel, son of Barnene. - -“The household have retired,” he said. “But the king sends his regrets -and courtesies, and has instructed that his noble guests are to be -lodged in the Red Branch for this night. A guard will escort you -there.” He motioned to the captain of the guard, who ranged his men. - -“Don’t forget about the edges you promised to do for me,” said Ardan to -his brother. - -“No wriggling, young lazy-bones,” Ainnle retorted. “You shall do your -work and be respectful to your betters also.” - -“Is not that man a tyrant?” said Ardan. He turned to the captain of -the guard. “Hold me away from him, good sir,” he implored. - -“I am at your orders, gentlemen,” said the smiling captain. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -But Conachúr had not retired. - -He was seated in the central room away in the heart of his monstrous -palace, and the great crystal ball swung at his shoulder. He had stared -into it for hours and had seen nothing. - -Lavarcham also was there, seated humbly on a stool. - -“Fill my cup,” said Conachúr. “I am thirsty to-night, my heart. I could -drain a sea and not drown this thirst.” - -“You are troubled, lord. All this business has fevered you.” - -“And you! Are you not excited at the thought of seeing your babe again?” - -“I have interested myself in so many things these seven long years, -master, I have almost forgotten her. She has dropped out of my mind, -and now I would as readily not see her as see her.” - -“I thought you loved that babe!” - -“After all, she is not my babe. Felimid mac Dall’s wife bore her.” - -“Is it so?” Conachúr mused. “I had almost forgotten that old tale.” - -“I had but the labour of rearing her, and of being disappointed by -her,” she said bitterly. - - * * * * * - -“You did not fill my cup, Lavarcham.” - -“I did, master, but you have emptied it.” - -“Fill it again, good friend.... She was beautiful, Lavarcham! She was a -thing of joy and wonder!” - -“Young girls are beautiful while they are young, master, but in a few -years they look like any other person.” - -“You think so?” - -“They get fat or they get thin. It is not girls that are lovely, -master, it is youth.” - -“And I am forty-seven years of age! The years go by doing what I know -to me, but for her there has been only the time to ripen what was -immature. The green fruit will be ruddy and fragrant worked on by the -sun and the wind. What age is she now, woman?” - -“She is seven years older in time, and twenty years older in hardship. -She will have forgotten how to lie in a bed, or how to eat proper food.” - -“She will surely have changed,” said Conachúr. - -A brisk moment returned to the great man, and he aroused himself. - -“How will she look after her years of lying in the butt of a wet ditch -or in the bog?” - -“Ah me!” said Lavarcham. - -“She will have plodded over tough hills with a thin belly and a dry -lip. She will have slept with her fingers in her mouth to keep them -warm in the winter. She will be lean and red-handed and windy-faced; -with the arches of her feet broken down by too much walking, and her -knees sagging under her like an old ploughman’s. Is that how the -Troubler will look, Lavarcham?” - -“I think, master, that she may be a long, thin, tough woman. She will -be rheumatic----” - -“She will awaken in the night coughing like a sick horse,” said the -cheerful king. - -“I do not wish to see her,” said Lavarcham sourly. - -“No more do I,” said Conachúr. “Let her go.... My cup!” he murmured. -“Lavarcham, you do not attend me well.” - -Again he became moody. - -“If I were not the king I would steal to the Red Branch and spy on -her ruin through a window. I should like to see that she is lank and -depressed.... Go you, Lavarcham; the guards know your privileges. Look -through the window and bring me back that tale.” - -“I do not want to see her at all, master. Let her stay with the people -she has chosen, and let her torment our sleep no more.” - -“Go, nevertheless, and bring me a full account of her. Fill up my -glass. Examine her carefully, my soul, so that you can bring me a true -report. But do not delay, for I shall be waiting for you. I am lonely -to-night, woman; I am very lonely. Send me a man of the guard to fill -my cup!” - -Lavarcham, with every sign of distaste, almost of annoyance, set on her -errand. - - * * * * * - -“Sit there, and take your ease,” the king ordered the guard who came -in. “Do not stare at the floor, good soul, nor at the ceiling. Ah me! -stand behind my chair then, and when my cup is empty refill it for me.” - -The embarrassed soldier moved gratefully to cover, and the king fell -again to his woeful meditations. - -“Guard!” he said. - -“A Rí Uasal!” the guard rolled sonorously. - -“Have you ever looked in a crystal?” - -“Never, king.” - -“Look in this crystal, my friend. Can you see anything?” - -“There is a fog in the crystal.” - -“It has been there these three days. Look again, good lad.” - -“I think there is a woman’s face.” - -“What sort of a woman?” - -“It has gone, majesty.” - -“What sort was she?” - -“I saw the loveliest face that ever brightened the world. It seemed -like the face of a sky-woman or a lady of the Shí.” - -“Sit on this little stool, and fill my cup. What age are you, guard?” - -“Twenty-two years, majesty.” - -“What is your name?” - -“I am called Strong Fist, sir.” - -“I remember you, Tréndorn, you are my hereditary man. Your father was -my man before you. How did he die?” - -“He was killed by Naoise, the son of Uisneac, sir.” - -“I remember,” said Conachúr, “and your two brothers were killed by that -Naoise. Do you remember that also?” - -“I would not forget it, sir.” - -“There are things that one should not forget, guard. Would you do an -ill turn to the same Naoise?” - -“If I had that chance I would take it, sir.” - -“He is in the Red Branch,” said Conachúr. “He is there with the woman -whose face you saw in the crystal. Go there for me, good soldier, and -look through the window. See that no person within observes you, for -these are murderous and skilful men, and if they saw you they would -stop your breath.” - -The guard stood glowering. - -“In what way do I get equal with Naoise?” he demanded. - -“Each thing in its time, good soul, for you would not understand how -the king moves. This is but the first step, and the second shall be -taken in no short time. Climb to the window, and look carefully at the -woman who is there with Naoise. Examine her well and bring me back news -of how she seems and what she looks like. You have seen women before?” - -“I have, majesty.” - -“You know what to look for; you will know how to look at a woman. Go. -Fill my cup, guard, and go on my errand.” - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -“Still,” said Ardan, “we are not treated too badly. There is plenty of -food.” - -“And there are beds in the alcove,” said Ainnle. - -“We shall sleep well to-night,” said Deirdre, and she burst into tears. - -They sat dumb, each feeling as if a chill wind had touched him. - -“Forgive me,” said Deirdre. “I shall not complain any more. Let us sit -to our meat.” - -“I shall eat and eat and eat,” said Ardan. “I am so hungry I could -growl over my food.” - -“You shall be served first, Ardaneen,” said Deirdre, “and if there is -one tender piece you shall have it.” - -“Our Buinne is even hungrier than I am; let him have the first piece.” - -Deirdre looked kindly at Buinne, but as she looked her eyes widened and -she went white to the lips. She spoke to him with a shy smile. - -“You will have the first piece, Buinne,” she stammered. - -“I shall take what comes,” said Rough-Red Buinne. - -Deirdre sank back in her chair. - -“Naoise, my dear,” she said, “please carve for me. I am not well.” - -“Buinne is sensible,” said Naoise. “He has a head on his shoulders.” He -stumbled in his carving, and cast a swift glance at Deirdre. - -“The first portion,” he continued gravely, “shall be for Buinne, the -second for Iollann, the third for Deirdre, the fourth for Ainnle, the -fifth for Ardan, and the sixth for Naoise.” - -“My piece is to be the tenderest,” said Ardan complacently; “Deirdre -said so. Fight for me, Deirdreen!” - -“Ardan, my dear brother,” said Deirdre, “come to me and give me ten -kisses.” - -“I’ll miss my turn,” he wailed, as he moved round to her. - -They ate their supper, and were sitting at chess--that is, Deirdre and -Naoise were playing, while the others watched the game--when there came -a tapping at the door which was nearest to them. Naoise held a piece -poised in his fingers. - -“Go, Ainnle, and challenge that person.” - -“It is a woman’s voice,” said Ainnle. - -“Let her come in.” - -The great bolts were pushed back, and Lavarcham entered. - -“My babe, my treasure!” she cried, and she ran to Deirdre. - -“Oh, my sweet mother!” said Deirdre. - -“I have no time,” Lavarcham panted. “I must fly back to the king. He -sent me to spy on you through the window.” - -“There is danger, mother?” - -“There is terrible danger. Conachúr’s household men are standing to -arms in the Speckled Branch, and there is a posse at each of the gates -of this place. He will attack before morning. Oh, Deirdre, Deirdre, -that you could have come here knowing Conachúr as I taught him to you! -What madness brought you from Scotland, child? Are you glad to see -me? Do you love your mother still, little one? I have told the king -that you would be ruined with hardship and sorrow; alas! you are more -beautiful than ever. I shall tell him that you are one-eyed and lame, -I shall tell him anything to quieten him for this night. To-morrow -Naoise’s people will get news of your return and he may fear to attack. -If only I can quieten him for this night! He is drinking. He may go -to sleep. Oh, my darling, my one love! I must fly. Keep all the doors -barred. Do not open to any one. I shall send messengers to Uisneac’s -people. Kiss me again. Oh, my love of all loves! I must fly.” - -“Ainnle, Ardan, run round all the doors. See that they are secure,” -said Naoise. - -He turned to Buinne and Iollann. - -“Your father may be too late to help us. I give you back your -protection, gentlemen.” - -“I shall stay with you,” said Buinne. - -“And I,” said Iollann. - -“Good comrades!” Naoise cried, and his eyes sparkled with delight and -gratitude. - -“We are five,” he said, “trained to arms from the moment we could -walk. No person of our quality will be against us, for no gentleman -of Ireland would take part in such an attack. There will be only the -common soldiery: hardy men, but as skilful at our trade as ploughmen. -They cannot break in, for the Red Branch was designed not to be broken -into. These bronze doors----” - -“The windows!” said Ainnle. - -“God pity the man that gets in through a window!” said Naoise. -“Moreover, they are too high. A man’s legs would be splintered if he -jumped from them.” - -“Fire!” said Ardan. - -“Conachúr will not burn his own fortress.” - -“There is a man at the window now,” said Deirdre. - -Naoise’s hand was on the table. He picked up a heavy chessman of gold -and ivory and with an underhand flick he sent it buzzing up and through -the glass. - -A roar of pain came from without and then a scream. “My eye! my eye!” a -voice wailed. - -“He won’t peep through windows again in a hurry,” said Ainnle. - -“Conachúr has overreached himself,” said Naoise. “We can hold out until -the morning, and if Lavarcham sends her messages my people will be -baying around Conachúr like wolves, and there will be many another one -with them.” - -“The people of Fergus mac Roy will be with them,” cried Buinne. - -“That king will learn what it is to dare my father’s protection,” -Iollann raged. - -“Why,” said Naoise joyfully, “we are as safe as if we were in Scotland.” - -“If we are only as safe as that!” said Ardan with a giggle. “Buinne, my -soul, we used to be running from morning until night. We ate our food -on the run. We used to run in our sleep. I tell the world that in six -years I have not felt safe for a minute until this minute, for there -are stout walls around us, and food to last a week’s siege. The gods be -praised,” he said piously, “we cannot run even if we have to.” - -The band of young men shouted with laughter, and Deirdre chimed in as -joyously as any of them. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -“It is as you thought, master,” said Lavarcham. “The girl is ruined.” - -“You saw her?” - -“Her cheeks are hollow and her eyes are red. One would pity her, -master. Indeed, I shall go to see her to-morrow.” - -“You did not want to see her any more,” said the king. - -“It was so,” she replied humbly. “But my heart was wrung when I looked -on her wretchedness.” - -“And the young men?” - -“They are stout young men, master.” - -“And the guards that I posted?” - -“They were at their posts.” - -“There ends a tale, and seven of my poor years ...!” said Conachúr. -“What did she look like, woman?” - -“She is thin and haggard, and she leaned by the table as though all the -weariness of the world were in her sides.” - -“Thus ...!” said Conachúr. “And we fash ourselves for these things -and spend our years and our pith ...! Fill my cup, Lavarcham. Let the -years go and the rest, for we are fools and children. Get to your rest, -friend, and let me mourn my foolish years and all my nonsense.” - -“Nay, go to your bed also, sweet king,” said Lavarcham. “You shall rest -to-night, for that bad dream is ended. You will be troubled no more. -To-morrow will be a new day, and all that the world has is for the -king.” - -“It is so,” said Conachúr. “This will be the last of those nights. Go -to your bed, good soul, and I shall go to mine in a moment.” - -Lavarcham left the palace with her mind in a turmoil of weariness and -fear, but with hope dawning in her soul. She sent secret runners to the -men of Uisneac and to those of Fergus mac Roy, warning them that their -chiefs were in urgent danger; and when she slept she was too happy even -to remember what the king might do when he discovered her treachery. -That memory would be for the morrow. - - * * * * * - -But the king did not sleep. - -“I shall wait the report of that guard,” he said, “and then I will be -able to sleep.” - -The guard came moaning and limping. - -“What ails you, man?” said the astonished king. - -“Naoise,” the guard stammered. “He has knocked out my eye.” - -He removed his hand from his face, and there was one eye there, and a -bloody mess where the other should have been. - -“Did I not tell you,” the king stormed, “that they were murderous men? -Did you take no heed in your work.” - -“It was the woman saw me,” the guard stammered. “She told the man, and -before I could move he threw a chessman at me and knocked out my eye. -My leg is broken too, master, for I fell from the window.” - -“You will make a better herdsman than soldier,” said the king harshly. -“You are one-legged, one-eyed, and stupid. Go to your bed, and be -careful that you do not cut your throat by taking off your boots. What -did the woman look like?” - -“What woman, majesty?” - -“The woman I sent you to look at.” - -“She looked like the woman I saw in the crystal.” - -“I know she did. What did she look like, fool?” - -“She looked like the most beautiful woman in the world.” - -Conachúr turned his great head and wide eyes on the soldier. - -“Be careful how you report to me, guard. How did that woman look? Is -she thin-faced? Is she pale and haggard and wretched?” - -“She is not, majesty. She is red-lipped and sweet-eyed and delicious. -She is the loveliest woman that moves in the world.” - -“Sit on that stool. Do not mind your eye for a moment. We shall mind -it for you in a little time. Answer my questions. Did that woman look -young or old?” - -“She looked young as a bride.” - -“Are her cheeks thin?” - -“They are not thin; they are round and rosy.” - -“Are her eyes red and sunken?” - -“They are clear as sweet water, majesty; they are coloured----But for -looking into them I should have got away, for, having looked, I could -not but keep on looking until Naoise threw his chessman.” - -“You are muddled,” said Conachúr sternly. - -“I would give my other eye for another look at her,” said the guard -savagely. - -Conachúr leaped furiously to his feet. - -“You shall be cared for,” he said. “Go to your bed. A doctor shall -be sent to you. A comrade will help you along.... Ho, there!” he -thundered. “Ho, there, the guards!” - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -“What do you hear, Ardan?” - -“Big feet, and a big lot of them.” - -“The doors are well secured?” - -“Every bolt is drawn.” - -“And the door we arranged for is left with only one bolt shot?” - -“Yes. It is a quick, well-oiled bolt. It will open and close again like -lightning.” - -There came a loud command, and, in a moment, a thundering knock. - -Naoise strode to the door. - -“Who goes there?” - -“The king’s men.” - -“What do you want?” - -“We want the woman who is with you.” - -“Is that all you want?” - -“And we want Naoise, the son of Uisneac.” - -“They are both here,” said Naoise. - -“Open this door,” the voice commanded. - -“Ah, no,” Naoise laughed; “why should we do your business, honest man?” - -There was no reply for a moment, but the rumble of conversation could -be heard; then the voice came again: - -“You others, Ainnle and Ardan and the sons of Fergus, open this door -and you shall go free.” - -Naoise looked gravely at his companions. - -“That is the necessary second part,” said Buinne, hitching his -sword-belt round. - -Naoise’s brothers took no notice, but their faces grew savage and their -eyes narrowed and sparkled. - -“Iollann and Deirdre, keep an eye on the windows,” Naoise warned. - -Iollann dangled a sling in his hand and Deirdre held another with a -copper bolt in it. - -“If,” said the voice, “the woman Deirdre comes out we will go away.” - -“Watch the windows,” Naoise warned; “they are talking to keep us -occupied.” - -Deirdre’s arm swung viciously, and a wild yell told that the bolt had -gone home. - -“I thought so,” said Naoise. “They cannot get in through the windows -because of the bars, but they could manage to fly an arrow through, -although it would be an awkward shot.” - -“Why,” said Ainnle, “we could go to sleep here!” - -A series of thundering knocks came on the door. - -“A ram!” said Buinne. - -“Half an hour of that might bring even these doors down,” said Naoise. - -He turned to his companions. - -“Ardan, yours will be the first sortie. They will not be prepared, -lad, for it is very awkward to work a ram and to keep guard at the -same time. Do not mind the men with the ram; they will be unarmed. But -behind them there will be a mass of men. You know how deep a fighter -can penetrate! It depends on his own weight. The instant you touch that -weight fight backwards. When you are two yards from the door Ainnle -will shout. Turn then and run. I shall have the door closed on you -almost before you are through. The moment the door slams, you, Buinne, -push in the bottom bolt. I shall slide the middle one with my right -hand and will be reaching for the top one with my left. You are ready! -Ardan, listen to me. The men immediately in front of you will give back -a step until they start to come on. Fight, therefore, to the right -sidewards, and with the point all the time. Keep your left covered with -the shield, and if there is a press cut with its cutting edges. The -moon is high, and you will be able to see. No foolhardiness, boy! The -moment you touch weight fight backwards, and then sweep broadly with -the edge, and, when Ainnle shouts, run.” - -He turned again. - -“Buinne, stand to the bolts. Iollann, Ainnle, Deirdre, place yourselves -so, and sling the ramsmen or they may cumber his retreat.” - -Under the thundering batter of the ram and the savage roaring of the -invaders the bolts were half drawn. - -“Ready all!” said Naoise. “Ready, Ardan?” - -Ardan hunched the shield to his left side and crouched, staring. - -“Good boy!” said Naoise. “Now, Buinne--Pull!” - -They heaved the great door wide and Ardan went through it like an arrow. - -“Sling, children,” said Naoise. “Keep me informed, Ainnle. I must stick -behind the door.” - -“He is at them, and well in.... Ah!” said Ainnle, and he slung -shrewdly. “He has forgotten to thrust and is cutting. My thanks, -Iollann, for that bolt. His shield work is excellent, brother, but he -will cut. There is his limit, if he knows it. He is fighting back, -and now he is thrusting where he should use the sweeping blade for a -retreat! That ramsman, Iollann! This one for me, and you, sister, for -the crouching man. I shall shout now.” - -“Ardan!” he roared. - -The boy dropped his combat as a dog drops a toad. In three seconds he -was through the doorway, and in four the door had slammed. - - * * * * * - -Naoise towered long and lean over his young brother. - -“Good lad!” he said. “Well done, Ardan!” - -“I killed a million,” said Ardan. - -A savage, raging yell came from without. - -“They will begin to warm to it now,” said Naoise, “and we must keep -them occupied. It is your turn, Ainnle. Give your sling to Ardan.” - -Ainnle whizzed at one window and Deirdre at another. Two loud shouts -were heard. - -“Whether they are hit or not their skulls are cracked by the fall,” -said Naoise, “but the windows do not matter. Come to this door.” - -“Why cannot I go out?” said Buinne. - -“You and I are the heaviest metal, my heart, and when the real fighting -commences we shall have plenty to do. This is only a little fun for the -boys. Ainnle, listen carefully. You will slip out by this door, and -will run, and fight as you run. Range where you please, but run always. -In five minutes--do not delay, Ainnle--make for yonder door. This one -will be shut, and the slings-men will be inside that door to cover your -retreat. It is understood?” - -Ainnle nodded, and made his blade whistle through the air. He heaved -the shield from his back to his shoulder. - -“The instant you are in, Ainnle, fly to this door again, while we close -the other behind you. Open all the bolts but one; Buinne will help, -and I and Iollann will dart out for five minutes. I wish to see what -arrangements they are making.” - -“Are you protecting my brother?” said Buinne savagely. - -“No, my heart, I am giving him a run and spying their dispositions.” - -“I claim this combat,” said the rough young man. - -“You shall have one immediately afterwards. You and I together will -make the tour of this fortress, shoulder to shoulder, Buinne. Will not -that content you?” Naoise laughed. - -“I was beginning to feel lonely,” said Buinne. “We shall have a -pleasant run.” - -“Ten minutes for our run,” said Naoise. “Ready, Ainnle?” - -His brother nodded. - -“Run straight out, thirty feet out if you can. Double then as you -please. Remember the door you are to come in by, and do all the damage -you can. If you are in difficulty give our call.” - -“I could not get into difficulty in five minutes,” Ainnle smiled. - -“Ready, Buinne? Pull!” - -Ainnle sped out, and the door slammed on him like thunder. - -The uproar without had been terrific, but now it redoubled, and at -times a long scream topped the noise as spray tops a wave. - - * * * * * - -“We cannot see our brother,” said Deirdre nervously. - -“We know his work,” Naoise replied. “He is as safe for five minutes as -if he were in bed.” - -“Your combat, Naoise!” she breathed. - -“It will be the easiest of them all. There will be a rough companion -with me. Run all to the other door,” he cried. “Iollann! Deirdre! -Ardan! Your slings! The bolts, Buinne! Pull, my soul!” - -Far out in the moonlight Ainnle was coursing like a deer. The moon -flashed on his blade and on his shield. Men ran from him, and men ran -to head him off, and into the middle of these he went diving like a -fish. A band from the right came rushing for the open door. - -“Out, Buinne, for ten seconds, and back when he is through.” - -Naoise and Buinne leaped out with whirling weapons. There was a clatter -of shields, a medley of shouts and curses, and in ten seconds they were -in again and the door was closed. - -“You opened a minute too early,” said Ainnle. “I was all right.” - -“You did some damage?” - -“Not badly.” - -“You didn’t kill as many as I did,” said Ardan. - -“Pooh!” Ainnle retorted. “No one could kill as many as you except -Cúchulinn.” - -“Let us arrange the next sortie,” said Naoise. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -Conachúr had come to the Red Branch, and a great roar of cheering -greeted him. He strode to the captain of his troop. - -“Well, my soul?” - -“We have begun, majesty.” - -“How is it going?” - -“Excellently,” said the captain. “We have lost about forty men already.” - -Conachúr stared at him. - -“How did that happen?” - -“It happened because of the king’s royal decision to lodge these men in -a fortress.” - -“You have five hundred men here!” - -“When they are all killed,” said the captain sourly, “we can call out -another five hundred.” - -“What is the difficulty?” his master growled. - -“A fortress with six doors. They leap in and out of these doors the -way frogs leap in a pool. While we are using the ram on this door -they make a sally by another door, this door, any door--and they are -the devil’s own fighters! We don’t know where to expect them, and -any one of those within is the equal of ten of our men in fighting, -and the superior of them all in tricks. I am to have them out before -morning--it is the king’s orders, but I don’t know how it is to be -done.” - -“Ram all the doors,” said Conachúr. - -“I have but one ram. I can get others to-morrow.” - -“To-morrow will be too late,” said the king furiously. “We shall have -half Ulster on our backs to-morrow.” - -“I want scaling ladders, grapnels,” said the officer angrily. “This -work has been thrown on us at a moment’s notice, and we are not -prepared for it. I can get them out in a day, but not in a night.” - -“Attack a door with your ram,” snarled Conachúr, “and guard your other -doors.” - -“I am doing that,” said the captain, “and my men, I fear, are beginning -to love the work.” - -He returned to his place, and in a few minutes the thud and batter of -the ram was heard again. Conachúr strode there and watched the work -with savage impatience. The captain returned and stood by him. - -“You put good doors in the Red Branch, majesty,” he said cheerfully; -“an hour of that ramming will begin to make them quiver.” - -A shout arose, but it was multiplied from every side by the roaring -soldiery, and one could not tell from which direction danger came. - -“They have popped out somewhere,” said the captain. “In about two -minutes they will pop in again, somewhere--they know but we don’t,--and -in those two minutes we will lose five men or twenty.” - -“Stick to the ram!” Conachúr roared. “Keep at that door, my men!” - -A wild yelling came from the side and a burst of men came pell-mell -round the corner. Weapons were striking everywhere and anywhere. - -“Which are our men and which are theirs?” said the captain. “Ours don’t -know in this light which is friend and which is enemy. _They_ know,” -he said bitterly; “but we are killing one another.” - - * * * * * - -Two figures detached themselves in the moonlight. They were bounding -like great cats, and wherever there was a mass they bounded into it, -burst through it, and leaped on. - -“Ho, Conachúr!” a voice called. “Do you remember Naoise?” - -“Ho, traitor king!” another boomed. “Do you remember Fergus?” - -“It is Naoise and Buinne this time,” said the captain. - -The two figures leaped at the ramsmen. The ram was dropped and the -unarmed crew fled yelling. The door that was being battered opened and -shut, and the two figures were gone. - -“That’s how it’s done!” said the captain. - -“Get to the ram!” Conachúr roared. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -“The king himself is there,” said Naoise. - -“Let us hunt him,” cried Ardan in savage glee. - -“He will move about,” Naoise replied. “We would never know where he -is, and we should only waste time. We have but to hold out until the -morning, and we can do it with ease. Why!” he cried, “we have forgotten -our days of travel; Fergus himself may be here to-morrow.” - -“He will travel day and night, and by chariot where we came on foot,” -said Iollann. “He may be here in the morning.” - -Naoise nodded joyfully. - -“He will have choked whatever is in it out of Borach’s throat long -before this,” Iollann continued, “and he will be an angry man.” - -“If he came, even alone,” said Naoise, “that rabble would fly.” - -“They will fly before he comes,” Ardan boasted, “for it’s my turn to go -out now, and I shall show them a trick or two.” - -“It’s two by two now, babe,” said Ainnle, “so we are going out -together.” - -“That man,” Ardan mourned, “is trying to cheat me of my fame. Fight for -me, Deirdreen! Back me up, Naoise!” - - * * * * * - -“Hark to them battering,” said Iollann. - -“How angry some people get!” Ardan giggled. - -“Let us make a full sortie,” Buinne cried. “We five could eat those -soldiers.” - -“One must be left for the door,” Naoise replied. “Ardan----” - -“No door for me!” said Ardan violently. - -“Ainnle,” said Naoise, “our lives will depend on the doorman.” - -“I shall go out the next time all by myself,” Ainnle bargained. - -His brother nodded, while Ardan danced for joy. - -“Pooh!” Ainnle gibed. “He thinks he is Cúchulinn!” - -Ardan squared up and began to shoulder him and to speak very roughly. - -“And I am better than Cúchulinn,” he concluded. - -Ainnle seized his head and gave him three kisses. - -“Little brother!” he said, “you are even better than I.” - -“You are a good brother,” said Ardan. “I shall not divorce you,” and he -returned the three kisses. - -“Are we ready all?” said Naoise. “Then let us arrange this sally.” - -“It shall be in two parties. Buinne and----” he halted for one moment; -“Buinne and Ardan, Iollann and myself.” - -“You trust Ardan to me!” said Buinne shortly. - -“Why not?” said Naoise. - -Deirdre was staring at her husband with a fixed, white stare, and -Naoise’s throat went suddenly dry. He strode to her. - -“What is it?” he murmured. - -“I have no vision,” she whispered. “I do not know.” - -“You still think----?” - -“I know it,” she said, “but I do not know when.” - -He closed his eyes and turned again. - -“We go through this door. Once out, you turn to the left, Buinne, and -I to the right, and away each on a grand half-circle. When we meet we -form in line and charge back to this same door: six feet between each -man for sword-play; Buinne and I on the outside.” - -“I shall be quite on the outside,” said Buinne. - -“As you will, friend,” said Naoise. “Get to the bolts, Ainnle. You two -will watch over each other?” he said, but it was at Buinne he looked. - -“I shall bring him back,” said the gruff man. - -“If one of Buinne’s hairs is touched,” Ardan boasted, “I shall give him -one of my own hairs instead of it.” - -“You are ready, Ainnle?” - -“How shall I know when to open the door?” Ainnle roared. - -“My wits are going!” said Naoise. “We shall fight in silence, and when -you hear our battle-cry open the door at that instant.” - -“Wait!” said Buinne. “Heavier blades are wanted for this sortie. It -should be two-handed work at the edge of a thirty-foot line, and the -shields must be left behind.” - -“My wits are indeed going!” said Naoise. - -“I shall bring him back,” said Buinne. “I take him under my -protection,” he growled. - -“You two,” said Naoise, “keep your shields. Buinne and I take the great -swords, and we leave our armour off for speed. The outside men must run -twice as quick as the inside ones,” he explained to Buinne. - -Buinne nodded and began to unlace his battle-coats. Deirdre flew to -help him, and she looked at him with such soft affection that the youth -marvelled. Naoise was bending the great blade that he got from Manannan -mac Lir, the God of the Sea. - -“Now, Ainnle, the door! Buinne is out first, I second, Iollann and -Ardan together. Ready! ... Pull!” - -They were gone. - - * * * * * - -Ainnle and Deirdre slammed the door, and he stood with his back -leaning against it, staring as it were inwardly, and listening with -every pore of his body. Deirdre threw her arms about his neck. - -“O Ainnle! dear Ainnle!” - -“It is lonely here,” he muttered. - -Her head drooped on his breast. - -“Do not faint, sister; the door has yet to be opened, and you must help -with the bolts. Hear those clowns roaring!” - -“If our own men would but shout once!” she moaned. - -“I should open the door immediately,” he smiled, “and this noble combat -would have a stupid end.” - -“To-morrow will never come,” she moaned. - -“Do not make my teeth chatter,” said Ainnle. - -“We must attend to the door,” he continued. “I shall draw the top bolt -now. Crouch down with your hands on the bottom one, and, when the shout -comes, draw it; I will draw the middle one, and when I say, ‘Pull,’ -drag with me on the door. It is almost too heavy for one man to move, -but between us--and they will push from the outside.” - -Deirdre crouched at his knees. A vast confusion of noise began to draw -nigh. - -“They are coming back,” said Ainnle. “Draw your bolt now, sister, and -take hold of the knob.” - -Above the infernal uproar there came the shout they knew. - -“Pull!” he roared. - -The door gave, a great push from without helped it, and the four leaped -through. A blade leaped in behind them and was snapped in pieces as -Ainnle, and a shoulder helping, smashed-to the door. - -Buinne was panting heavily. - -“That deserves a rest,” he said. - -And the other three began with one voice to narrate the sortie to the -two who had been within. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -Buinne stood up. - -“Naoise,” he said sternly. - -“My soul?” said Naoise. - -“You interfered in my combat.” - -“Your end of the line was almost too heavy for any man, dear heart.” - -“You did it twice.” - -“Thirty feet out is a great distance. All the press was in your path. I -did but lighten it when my own front was easy.” - -“I will accept no man’s assistance,” said Buinne. - -“We are comrades,” Naoise replied gently. “We give and take help.” - -“Did I call for help?” the other growled. - -Naoise’s great chest rose, but his voice was calm. - -“No man will ever hear you call for help, Buinne.” - -“Let no man give what is not called for.” - -“But for that help, Buinne, you would now be dead.” - -“I was not fit for the end of the line?” said Buinne harshly. - -“You are young yet, comrade, but in two years you will have the speed -and smash that such a post calls for.” - -“Your speed! your smash!” said the sardonic Buinne. - -“The world knows,” Ainnle interposed, “that the four greatest champions -of Ireland are Cúchulinn, Fergus, Conall, and Naoise.” - -“And Ainnle,” Buinne completed with a grin. - -The young man turned his dancing length of whipcord and his narrowed -brow on Buinne. - -“I, myself----” he said gently. - -“And so could I,” said Ardan. - -“Do not quarrel,” Naoise interrupted. “In two years Buinne will be the -equal of any man you have named. Hush,” he said. - -He bent his head sideward and hearkened in amazement. The others -listened, with their eyes turned questioningly on each other. They -listened to nothing, for the ram had ceased and there was a silence of -the dead without. - -In a few moments there came a gentle tapping, then a louder knocking at -the door. - -Naoise stood before it, frowning. - -“Who goes there?” - -“The herald.” - -“What do you want?” - -“Parley.” - -“Say what you have to say, herald.” - -“If the woman Deirdre is put out through this door the troops will -march away.” - -“And what then?” - -“No vengeance will be for ever exacted against the sons of Uisneac.” - -“There is no answer,” said Naoise. - -“I have yet a message,” said the voice. - -“Deliver it.” - -“It is for the ear of the sons of Fergus.” - -Buinne strode forward. - -“Deliver it,” he said. - -“There is no quarrel,” said the herald, “between the king and Fergus -mac Roy. The king’s love for Fergus is such that he wishes at any cost -to save his two sons from a death that is certain.” - -“Well?” said Buinne. - -“The king says that if these young men retire from the combat he will -bestow a lordship on them.” - -“What lordship?” - -“A cantred of land greater than that which Fergus himself has, and the -king’s friendship.” - -Buinne looked under steep red brows at Naoise. - -“I shall go out,” he said. - -He turned to his brother. - -“You will come out with me.” - -“I shall not,” said Iollann. - -His brother stamped a foot. - -“My father is my chief,” said Iollann. “What he orders I do. I cannot -protect the sons of Uisneac as he commanded, but I can fight beside -them.” - -Buinne turned. - -“Herald,” he roared, “tell Conachúr that I shall go out to him.” - -His hand went to the door, but Naoise stepped forward. - -“Do not touch a bolt,” he commanded. “You shall go out by the door I -choose. That door,” he pointed, and strode to it. “Iollann, Ainnle, -stand so with the spears. Ardan, Deirdre, sling from this point. -Buinne, stand so, one foot beyond the swing of the door.” - -“We may meet again, Naoise,” said Buinne. - -“If we meet in the press, Buinne, I may perhaps spare you for the sake -of my brother Iollann. Ready, Buinne! When the door is opened I shall -count three. Be gone ere the last count or I shall smash you to a pulp.” - -Naoise gave one mighty heave, and counted. Then Buinne was gone and the -door had closed again. - - * * * * * - -“I claim this sortie,” said Iollann, as the ram recommenced on the door. - -“It is my turn,” said Ainnle, “but we will go together, friend.” - -“I wish to go alone, and bring honour back to the name of Fergus. I am -a better fighter than you think,” he insisted. - -“You are a good fighter, in truth,” said Naoise, “but a solitary -venture is now dangerous. They are more accustomed to the light and -to our methods, for there is nothing to vary in them. We must emerge -by a door, and they are watching every door like hawks. But before you -go, Iollann, there is one work we must do for safety’s sake. Listen -carefully, my dear ones.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -“This is endless,” Conachúr gritted. “Has that Buinne come out yet?” - -“The men will shout when he appears.” - -“Bring him here and we will get their dispositions from him.” - -“There is nothing to get, majesty. Their plan is the simplest. They -have six doors: they choose one to come out by and one to get in by. -That is the whole plan.” - -“Post men in such a way that when one does come out he will not be able -to get in again through that door or any door. Send for reinforcements -and put fifty men against each door.... Those ramsmen have women’s -shoulders,” he growled. “They would beat a mud wall down in a month.” - -“It must give shortly,” said the captain, “but there will be no -entrance when the door is down.” - -“No?” said Conachúr. - -“They will have the inside barricaded, and our men will not dare that -narrow, black, impeded passage. We could leave an hundred dead in that -doorway and be no farther.” - - * * * * * - -“There is Buinne,” the captain continued, as a shout came from the side. - -“Buinne,” said Conachúr, “you will fight for me?” - -“My lordship, Conachúr?” said the gruff young man. - -“It shall be as I said, and more,” said the king. (It was given as -promised, and was known for long as Dal Buinne, but it is now called -Slieve Fuad.) - -Buinne told what he could of the defence, but, as the captain had -foreseen, there was nothing to tell. - -“This door,” said Conachúr, “will be down shortly. Have they barricaded -it on the inside?” - -“They have not,” said Buinne. - -The captain became active and violent. - -“Ah!” he cried, “there is always something forgotten. Get at the ram, -you there,” he roared. “Put your shoulders into it.” - -He turned to the king. - -“We have them!” he said. - -Conachúr, with his eyes gleaming and a savage smile curling his lips, -strode towards the rammers, but as he moved, the door swung open and -four men leaped from its yawning blackness. In a second two of the -ramsmen were dead, and the rest were flying wildly, bustling the very -king in their passage. - -“By my hand!” the captain gurgled. - -Two of the assaulters lifted the ram and trotted with it through -the door. The other two made an onslaught of such ferocity that the -soldiers were appalled. Then one fled back through the door, which -instantly slammed, and the other sped like lightning around the -building. - -“After him!” roared Conachúr. - -But the captain remained where he was, howling and dancing with rage. - -“I’ve lost my ram,” he bawled. “I’ve lost my ram.” - -“We have you, Iollann!” said Conachúr. “Traitor to your king!” he -growled. - -“Traitor to your friends,” Iollann retorted. - -“Deliver yourself to me,” said Conachúr, “and you shall be spared.” - -“I came out for a purpose,” said Iollann. “I demand single combat.” - -“There are no gentlemen here,” Conachúr replied, “except your brother, -so your claim cannot be granted.” - -“I shall cuff him,” said Buinne, “but I will not fight him,” and he -strode away. - -“I shall take this combat,” said a voice. - -Conachúr turned and saw his own son, Fiachra, standing there, and his -heart sank. - -“You have no arms,” he said harshly. - -“You will lend me yours,” said Fiachra. - -Conachúr stared on the fierce circle that surrounded him. He stared at -Iollann, who stood with his back to the Red Branch swinging his blade, -and he knew that the combat must take place. - -“Iollann and I were born on the same night,” said Fiachra. “It is an -equal combat.” - -Conachúr took off his own battle-coats and gave them to Fiachra. He -gave him his shield, the enchanted Aicean, and his green sword. - -“Fight, then,” he said, “and remember my teaching. Remember my shield -work and my thrust.” - -They fought then, but at the first stroke from Iollann the great shield -roared; for that virtue was in the Bright-Rim, to roar when the man it -covered was struck at, and in answer to its roar the Three Waves of -Ireland, the Wave of Tua, the Wave of Clíona, and the Wave of Rury, -roared in reply, and thereby all Ireland knew that a king was in danger. - - * * * * * - -Away in the palace Conall Cearnach sat drinking, listening to some -great brawl, as he thought. He heard the roaring of Aicean, and leaped -to his feet. - -“The king is in danger!” he said. - -He seized his weapons and fled from the palace of Macha, and came on -the great combat. - -In the dim light he thought it was Conachúr himself was behind the -shield, and from the daring and mighty onslaught of the opponent he -saw there was no time to lose. He burst his blue-green spear through -the press and through the back of Iollann. - -Iollann staggered to the wall of the Red Branch. - -“Who has struck me from behind?” he said. - -“I, Conall Cearnach.” - -“Great and horrible is the deed you have done, Conall.” - -“Who are you?” Conall demanded. - -“I am Iollann the Fair, sent by my father to protect the sons of -Uisneac.” - -“By my hand,” said Conall fiercely, “I shall undo some of what I have -done,” and with one side twist of the sword he lifted the head from -Fiachra. - -“Help me to that door, Conall,” said Iollann. “The sons of Uisneac are -within.” - -The appalled soldiery shrank back, and on Conall’s arm they came to the -door. There Iollann gave his shout. A feeble one it was, but it was -heard and the door opened. Iollann staggered in. - -“Fight bravely, Naoise!” he said, and with that he sank on the floor, -and he was dead. - - * * * * * - -Outside the Red Branch Conachúr ran hither and thither like a man -enraged by madness. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -“We are yet three,” said Naoise. “Draw the bolts, Ainnle, for one -sortie of friendship. We have no doorman, for Deirdre could not close -or open the door by herself. You and I, Ainnle. Be quiet, Ardan! Come, -my brother, and put all your arm into the blade. We will come in by the -door we go out of. This door! Be ready for our shout, Ardan!” - -They went out and returned with red weapons, and for a long time they -sat in the dim flare of a torch watching by their dead comrade. - -“He was a brave boy,” said Deirdre. - -“He did not obey my order,” her husband sighed. “I do not know what he -did.” - -“I smell--smoke,” said Ainnle suddenly. - -“I have smelled something for a long time,” said Deirdre, “but I could -not think what it was. I am weary because of the death of this good -friend.” - -But little by little the vast building became full of smoke, and in a -while a fierce roar and crackling was heard also. - -Naoise was again the hardy leader. - -“They have fired the fortress! We do not know what happened while -Iollann was away, but Conachúr has reached the end of the world. Who -could have foretold that he would fire the Red Branch! We must prepare -for all that can happen.” - -“We are not dead yet,” said Ardan. - -“What do you counsel, brother?” said Ainnle. - -“Sit down, there is less smoke on the floor.” - -A ruddy glare could be seen by each window. - -“Fire is laid all round the building. We must make our plans quickly.” - -Ainnle turned gleefully to his younger brother. - -“You shall run after all, my poor friend.” - -“In good truth,” Ardan grinned, “I thought in Scotland that I should -never want to run again, but I feel now that we have been staying too -long in the one place. After all,” he said complacently, “I am a man of -action.” - -“And, of course,” Ainnle gibed, “no one can run as quickly as you can.” - -“No one,” said Ardan, “except Deirdre.” - - * * * * * - -“Listen,” said Naoise. “We have still more than a chance. We can run. -Scotland trained us in that certainly, and if we can surprise but forty -yards on the men without, we shall outrun their best in twenty minutes.” - -“Where shall we run to?” - -“We shall take the road to our own lordship. If Lavarcham’s message -has been sent, our kinsmen should be marching at this moment on Emain. -But,” he said, and pointed, “we cannot wait for them.” - -They looked in silence. - -A huge golden flame licked screaming through the window, wavered hither -and thither like some blindly savage tongue, and roared out again. - -“It was ten feet long and three feet thick,” said Ardan in a whisper. - -“In ten minutes we shall go,” said Naoise. - -“What arms?” - -“Shield and spear, brother. Strip off all armour. We must run lightly. - -“I shall be out first,” he continued. “Give me twenty seconds before -you follow, Ainnle, I can make room in twenty seconds. You will run ten -paces to the left of the door. Deirdre and Ardan will run immediately -into our interval; turn all to the right, and at my shout, run. Single -file; Ainnle at the end. If I shout ‘halt,’ you two turn about and -protect the rear. When I shout ‘run,’ drop every combat and fly. You, -Deirdre, take Iollann’s shield.” - -“And his spear,” said Deirdre. - -“Keep actually at my back, beloved, and each time we halt drop flat on -the ground.” - -He was shouting his instructions now, for the voice of the fire was -like the steady rage and roar of the sea, and through every window -monstrous sheets of flame were leaping and crashing. - -“This door,” said Naoise. “A kiss for every one,” he called. “We shall -win yet. Pull, Ainnle!” - -“The door is red-hot,” said Ainnle. - -“Back for a mantle; two. Now grip. Pull! Give me twenty seconds, -Ainnle.” - -He leaped across fire and disappeared. - -The others leaped after him, with a wild yell from Ardan. - - * * * * * - -Conachúr had sent a flying messenger to the palace. - -“Bring Cathfa back with you,” he ordered. “Tell him I want him. Say -that the king beseeches him to come.” - -The captain of his troop stood by. - -“Alas for the Red Branch!” he said mournfully. - -“All that can be destroyed can be rebuilt,” said Conachúr. “I shall -rebuild the Red Branch.” - -He was in terrible distress and agitation. - -“The morn is nigh,” he said. - -And he strode unhappily to and fro, with his eyes on the ground and his -mind warring. - - * * * * * - -Far to the east a livid gleam appeared. The darkness of a summer night, -which is yet a twilight, was shorn of its soft beauty, and in the air -there moved imperceptibly and voluminously a spectral apparition of -dawn. A harsh, grey, iron-bound upper-world brooded on a chill and -wrinkled earth. The king’s eyes and the eyes of his captain scanned -each other from colourless, bleak faces. There was no hue in their -garments; their shields were dull as death; and their hands, each -clutching a weapon, seemed like the knotted claws of goblins. - -A slow, sad exhalation came from the king’s grey lips, like the plaint -of some grim merman of the sea, rising away and alone amid the chop and -shudder of his dismal waters. - - * * * * * - -“The fire is catching,” the captain murmured. “Hark to that crackling!” - -“We shall have light,” the king murmured. “The Red Branch will flame.” - -“Within ...!” said the captain moodily, and he looked with stern -mournfulness on the vast pile. - -“They must soon come out,” he muttered. - -“Your men are posted?” - -“Every door is held. When they pop out this time----” - -“They will have no place to pop into,” said Conachúr. “I have them,” he -growled; and he threw his hand in the air and gripped it, as though in -that blanched fist he held all that could never escape from him. - -“They will fight,” said the captain, “and they are woeful fighters.” - -“You are nervous, man,” said Conachúr. “At this hour and after this -night,” said the captain, “our men could fly from those three like -scared rabbits.” - -“I fear that,” said Conachúr. - -“They may get away,” said the captain. Conachúr advanced on him so -savagely and with such a writhe of feature that the man fell back. - -“Dog!” said Conachúr. “If they escape I shall take your head.” - -“They are surrounded,” the captain stammered; “they cannot escape.” - -“They can escape,” Conachúr roared. “You know they can escape. Your -men are cowards and idiots, and what are you? Oh, am I not a thwarted -man! Am I not a forsaken king! Where is Cathfa? Where is the druid?” he -cried. - -“Majesty,” the captain implored, “do not curse us. The great magician -is coming.” - - * * * * * - -The magician indeed had come. - -“What has set you raging, Conachúr?” he asked. - -“Father,” said Conachúr, “if you do not assist me I am lost.” - -The old, old man looked at him. - -“Tell me your tale, son. Whom have you locked up in fire?” - -“The sons of Uisneac are there,” said Conachúr. “They will escape me,” -he said. - -“They are my grandchildren,” said Cathfa. - -“It is the woman with them,--it is Deirdre I want. She was mine. She -was stolen from me. I am not myself without her. I am a dead man while -she is with Naoise.” - -“What do you fear from boys roared round by flame?” - -“They may escape with her. When they come out my men may run from them. -If they escape this time, father, I am dead.” - -“If I help you, Conachúr----?” - -“I shall do anything you ask. Nothing you can demand will be too much -for Conachúr.” - -“It is the woman you want?” - -“The woman only.” - -“It is not the blood of these boys you lust for?” - -“The woman, father, only the woman.” - -“I shall help you, Conachúr. Do not lay one finger on my daughter’s -sons, the sons of your young sister.” - - * * * * * - -“They are out,” the captain said, as a great roar came from the -soldiers. - -Conachúr moved to that direction. - -“Quick, quick,” he said, twitching his father’s mantle in his -impatience. “They will escape me.” - -“They shall not escape me,” Cathfa answered. “There is no need for -haste.” - - * * * * * - -They were out, indeed, and, like two grim lions or woeful griffins -of the air, Naoise and Ainnle were raging in that press. Into their -interval leaped Ardan, with but one eye peeping from the shield and a -deadly hand thrusting from the rim. Back and forth they leaped with -resistless savagery. Men flew at them and from them. Everywhere was a -wild yelling of orders and the wilder screaming of stricken men. But, -over all, Naoise’s voice came pealing-- - -“Up, Deirdre. Run!” - -She was at his back in an instant, the shield covering her side; her -spear darted viciously by his right elbow, and a venturesome man -dropped squealing. Five feet behind, Ardan was leaping like a cat, all -eyes and points, and ten paces behind him Ainnle was bounding. - -“Halt,” roared Naoise. - -Deirdre was again on the ground. Ardan ranged tigerishly to right and -left, while Ainnle whirled on the pursuers in ten-foot bounds. - - * * * * * - -Conachúr had arrived with Cathfa. Men were falling before them at the -rate of three a second. So dreadful was Naoise’s onslaught in the front -that none would face him. Men tumbled over each other when he charged. - -“The men will run away in a second,” said the captain. - -“Get into the _mêlée_, coward,” roared Conachúr.... “Cathfa----!” he -implored. - -The officer whizzed out his blade and leaped forward. In three seconds -he was dead, and five who followed him were rolling in their agony -along the ground. - -Naoise’s voice came in a wild shout. - -“Up, Deirdre. Run!” - -The four were again in line. The men in front melted to either side of -that dreadful file. - -“Run!” said Naoise. “We are out!” - - * * * * * - -In front of him there was but Conachúr and Cathfa. Conachúr drew his -great sword and stood crouching; and at him, with a dreadful smile, -Naoise came on. Cathfa moved two paces to the front and stared fixedly -at Naoise. He extended his two arms widely---- - - * * * * * - -Naoise dropped on one knee, rose again, leaped high in the air and -dropped again on his knee. Deirdre fell to the ground and rose up -gasping. Ardan rolled over on his back, tossed his shield away, and -came slowly up again, beating the air with his hands. Ainnle went half -way down, rose again, and continued his advance on tiptoe. - -A look of dismay and rage came on Naoise’s face. He moved with -extraordinary slowness to Deirdre and lifted her to his shoulder. - -“We are lost,” he said. “That magician----!” - -“Keep on swimming,” Ardan giggled. “There was never water here before, -but the whole sea has risen around our legs, and we may paddle to -Uisneac.” - -The arms dropped from their hands, and, in fact, they swam. - -Not for a minute or two did the soldiers dare advance, and then they -did so cautiously. They picked up the fallen weapons, and then only did -they lay hands on the raging champions. - -Cathfa dropped his arms to his sides. - - * * * * * - -“We are taken,” said Naoise. “Our run is ended.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -Cathfa had gone away, and Conachúr strode to his prisoners. - -“So! Naoise,” he said. - -“So! uncle,” said Naoise. - -“I win in the end. I always win at last,” said Conachúr. - -He looked at each with his stern smile, and when he spoke again it was -to Deirdre. - -“Little fawn! you have run wild for a long time. You shall rest at -last.” - -But she made only the reply that a fawn makes, the reply of parted lips -and terror-stricken eyes. - -“You shall come to me,” he said. - -Then she moistened her trembling lips and looked at Naoise. - -“Do not look at him,” said Conachúr. “He is already a dead man; let -him be forgotten. All tricks and troubles are ended for you, sweet -bird; you shall have peace.” - -“Will you have peace to-morrow, Conachúr?” said Naoise. “Fergus is -marching on you.” - -“Be at ease, nephew,” and the king smiled grimly. “I shall take care of -Fergus when he comes. For long I have wanted to take care of Fergus. -But, first, I shall take care of you, Naoise, and of your traitor -brothers. Your hour is on you,” he said, “and you die now.” - -“Churl and rogue----!” said Ainnle. - -But a gesture from his brother stopped him. - -“Let this king do his business,” he said. - -“That must be done,” said Conachúr. - -He turned briskly and moved away. - - * * * * * - -Now the day was at hand, and these four looked on a world that was -spectral and misshapen, but which was yet the world. On high the clouds -could be seen, a grey immensity, stony as the face of Conachúr, and a -chill wind moaned thinly about them. But far away the grey misery of -morn had lightened, and a silver gleam, slender as a rod, crept up the -east. - -To that gleam their eyes turned, and from it to each other’s faces. - -At the guards who ringed them in they did not look, or they looked -unseeingly. But those gaunt apparitions stared like statues on the four -and did not move a lip. - -“The sun will rise in a little,” said Ardan.... “That magician has -gone,” he whispered. “If we leaped at the guards----!” - -“No good, brother, they are too many and we have no arms.” - -“We should have one merry minute,” said Ardan. - -“We have had a merry night,” said Ainnle, “be contented, babe.” - - * * * * * - -Naoise looked lovingly on his brothers. - -“We were always together,” he said. “We shall always be together.” - -“And I ...!” said Deirdre, “am I to be left out at last?” - -“Sweet girl,” said Naoise, “he will kill us, but you will be spared. -You shall see that sun come up. You shall look at it for us.” - -“Dear husband,” she said, “do you still love me? Do you truly love me?” - -His eyes gave her answer. - - * * * * * - -“Here comes Conachúr,” said Ainnle. - -“And a large person with him,” said Ardan. - -It was Mainè Rough-Hand, son of the King of the Fair Norwegians, they -say; but others think it was Eogan, son of Durthacht, the prince of -Ferney. - -“You shall die at the hand of a gentleman as befits your rank,” said -Conachúr. - -“I shall be the first,” said Ardan briskly. “I am first in every great -deed,” he explained to Conachúr. - -“Hark to him!” Ainnle laughed. “Respect your elders, young person, and -the heads of your family.” - -But Ardan appealed to Mainè. - -“Let me be first, sweet sir,” he pleaded. He turned confidingly to -Conachúr. “I cannot bear to see my brothers killed,” he said.... - -Deirdre knelt by the bodies, and she sang their keen, beginning: - - “I send a blessing eastward to Scotland.” - -When she had finished the poem she bowed over her husband’s body: she -sipped of his blood, and she died there upon his body. - - SO FAR, THE FATE OF THE SONS OF UISNEAC, - AND THE OPENING OF THE GREAT TÁIN - - -_Printed in Great Britain by_ R. & R. Clark, Limited, _Edinburgh_. - - - - -BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - - THE CROCK OF GOLD. Crown 8vo. 6s. net. - - THE CROCK OF GOLD. With Illustrations in Colour and Black and White by - Wilfred Jones. 8vo. 12s. net. - - HERE ARE LADIES. Crown 8vo. 6s. net. - - THE DEMI-GODS. Crown 8vo. 6s. net. - - THE CHARWOMAN’S DAUGHTER. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - - IRISH FAIRY TALES. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. net. - - IRISH FAIRY TALES. With 16 Plates in Colour and other Illustrations in - Black and White by Arthur Rackham. Fcap. 4to. 15s. net. - - THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG: THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN. Poems. Crown - 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - - REINCARNATIONS. Poems. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - THE HILL OF VISION. Poems. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. net. - - SONGS FROM THE CLAY. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - - -LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd. - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes: - - -A number of typographical errors were corrected silently. - -Cover image is in the public domain. - -Table of Contents added. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEIRDRE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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